BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: FIRE IN SPACE
                          by
                     Eric J. Paddon

Based on an original teleplay by Terence McDonnell & Jim Carlson
             Original story by Michael Sloan
      Battlestar Galactica created by Glen A. Larson

         This is a work of fan-fiction and is not
        intended to infringe on any copyright laws

          Battlestar Galactica: Fire In Space

                       Prologue

     As Baltar sat in the throne chair located inside the command
center of his basestar, he could hear the gliding noise of Lucifer
approaching.  Almost immediately, he had an inkling of what the IL
Cylon was going to tell him.
     "By your command," the IL Cylon said in that outwardly deferential
tone that always made Baltar feel a twinge uneasy.
     "Speak," he waved his hand.
     "We have a message from Gomorrah.  Imperious Leader wishes to
speak to you directly."
     The human traitor sunk back in his chair.  As he'd feared, the
message he'd been dreading for two days now, was finally coming.
     "Is our new plan ready to be put into effect?" he asked.
     "It is," Lucifer admitted.
     "Then I shall speak with him," he rose from his throne chair,
"Once he is appraised of the new plan, that should settle all matters
with him."
     The IL Cylon resisted the urge to issue a mild retort.  As far as
he was concerned, it would take a lot more than a new battle plan to
get Baltar off-the-hook after all that had happened two days ago at the
Battle of Gomorrah.  What had supposed to be a "rout" and a "massacre"
of all that remained of humanity, had instead turned into an
unmitigated disaster for the Cylons, with two basestars destroyed and
serious damage inflicted on the outer capital of Gomorrah.  Where the
Imperious Leader himself had been present to dedicate the new garrison.
     And now, two days later, Baltar would be hearing from the Cylon
ruler for the first time since the battle.
     The human traitor walked at a brisk pace into the next room, where
the communications set-up was.  With a calm, collected expression, he
flicked on one of the console switches.
     In an instant, Imperious Leader's face filled the screen.
     "Your Eminence," Baltar bowed slightly and kept his tone
deferential, "We are glad to know that you are still safe."
     "We can dispense with formalities, Baltar," the Cylon ruler
sounded thoroughly displeased, "I want a full status report, now."
     Baltar sucked in his breath, "Our two sister basestars have been
destroyed.  But so too, has the Battlestar Pegasus."
     "Are you certain of that?" the Leader's question was pointed, "Did
you confirm her destruction, or did she just 'disappear' as she did at
Molocay, two yahrens ago?"
     "Well sir, I admit that we have no floating space debris to
confirm that, but it is my firm belief that there is no possibility she
could have escaped without being detected by us."
     "Somehow, your 'firm beliefs' have given me less cause for
assurance than before," there was an acidic edge in the Leader's retort
that managed to send a brief chill up Baltar's spine.  He found himself
unable to respond, but then Imperious Leader resumed in a decidedly
less harsh tone.
     "No matter though," he said, "Right now, you are not the one I
have more anger with, Baltar.  The entire command infrastructure of
Gomorrah, from Commander Keldor on down, lied to both my predecessor
and me for two yahrens, and never told us that the Battlestar Pegasus
was still alive and well and causing all the trouble here.  They have
all been forced to pay the appropriate consequences for their
incompetence and their treachery."
     "Yes, and I would also remind you, that any failures caused in the
recent battle were also due to the fact that Gomorrah never told me
about the Pegasus either," Baltar interjected.
     "No need to defend yourself, Baltar," Imperious Leader now sounded
totally reassuring, "I am not planning any disciplinary action against
you at the present time."
     Instantly, the human traitor felt his body relax as a wave of
intense relief filled him.
     Behind him, a sensation of stunned disbelief went through every
circuit in Lucifer's body. 
     "What is the status of the Galactica and her fleet?" the Leader
resumed.
     "She shall be dealt with as soon as you and I are through
talking," Baltar spoke with renewed confidence, "She has not been as
quick to elude our monitoring of her since leaving the Gomorrah
quadrant.  As a result, we are ready to launch a new assault that will
guarantee the Galactica's destruction."
     "How?" Imperious Leader asked with a hint of skepticism.
     "I have spent the last two days, arming our squadrons for a
special mission," he said, "Our fighters are being packed with
solonite, and will be instructed to ram the Galactica.  The combination
of that and the solonite in the fighters will set-off a chain reaction
of explosions that will destroy the Galactica without the need for any
sustained battle."
     There was a brief silence from the other end of the transmission.
     "Baltar," the Leader said, "You are aware that by loading your
fighters with solonite, you are all but insuring that they will be
totally impotent in direct engagements with the Galactica's vipers."
     "I'm aware of that," Baltar admitted, "That's why I'm loading as
many fighters as I can.  The greater volume will insure that some will
break-through the defense lines and be able to ram the Galactica."
     Imperious Leader was silent again.
     "We have reached the stage where an admittedly desperate measure
is now called for," Baltar resumed, "After what has gone on in the last
two days, I do not believe that a conventional assault will be
sufficient, and," he paused briefly, "As the last combat-ready basestar
in this quadrant, I don't believe it wise to engage the Galactica in a
direct ship-to-ship confrontation at this time."
     "Agreed," the Cylon ruler seemed to sigh in resignation, "Your
plan has my approval.  Carry it out."
     Baltar allowed himself a faint grin, "Thank you, Your Eminence."
     "Inform me of how events develop when you can."
     "I shall.  Oh, and there is one other thing."
     "Yes?"
     "Since you have conducted a justified purge of the administrative
leadership on Gomorrah, I believe you will be needing to appoint a new
base commander."
     "Do you have any recommendations?"
     "I do," Baltar said, "There is an IL Cylon aboard my ship who
served with distinction as commander of a small garrison on the planet
Atilla.  He's been in need of a new assignment since climate conditions
forced him to abandon the garrison."
     "Is he reliable?" the Leader asked.
     "He is.  His name is Spektor."
     "Hmmm, I shall give his name strong consideration.  Thank you
Baltar."
     "Until later, Your Eminence," the human traitor again bowed
slightly as the Cylon ruler's face faded from the screen.
     With the transmission ended, Baltar turned to Lucifer, and grinned
more broadly.
     "You see, Lucifer?" he said with that aura of smugness that had
not been there for days, "The Leader is most understanding when it
comes to realizing where the larger blame lies."
     The IL Cylon did not reply.  He found it absolutely incredible
that Imperious Leader had let Baltar off so easy.  And to learn that
incompetent Spektor would very possibly be heading up the new garrison
as well?  He knew perfectly well that the only reason why Baltar had
recommended Spektor was because of the way the older IL Cylon had
stroked the traitor's vanity with effusive compliments of praise during
his last dispatches from Atilla.  All of which, Lucifer was convinced,
had been an elaborate smokescreen to cover-up Spektor's own
incompetence, although he'd never been able to prove that.
     "Launch all fighters, Lucifer."
     It took Lucifer all his strength to reply, "By your command," as
he then turned and glided out of the room as fast as his circuits would
allow.

                                   Chapter One

     As the Battlestar Galactica and her fleet of 220 ships left the
planet Gomorrah and the Cryllian star system behind her, a sense of
normalcy began to slowly return.
     "All scanners report clear," Colonel Tigh reported as Adama
entered the bridge.
     "Good," the Galactica commander sat down, "It looks as though all
that fuel we took from Gomorrah has paid off."
     "All squadrons are still on Yellow Alert status," Tigh added, "But
Commander, there are a lot of pilots and other warriors who've been
through a lot these last few days.  I would strongly recommend that
those who've gone the longest without one, be granted immediate furlons
now."
     The commander nodded, "Probably a good idea, Colonel.  But just to
be on the safe side, do it for only the top five percent on the list."
     "Boomer will be glad to hear that," Tigh said, "He came up to me
this morning, and reminded me that he'd been at the top for almost a
sectan."
     "He's a good warrior.  He deserves it." Adama agreed, as he then
made a mental note that he might soon be considering Boomer for more
important responsibilities in the near future.   Right now, the recent
battle had left him without a commander for Red Squadron, following the
death of Captain Taggs.  It was the second time in three sectars that
Red Group's leader had met with death, the first having been Captain
Killian at Arcta when he fell victim to the Ravashol pulsar.  Of all
the warriors he could think of, Boomer seemed best suited for the job,
though there remained the sticky matter of his not being a veteran of
the Battlestar Columbia, as so much of Red Group was.  He had a hunch
though, that in light of how Captain Taggs had not distinguished
himself prior to his death, Red Group might not be unreceptive to the
idea of an outsider taking charge this time.
     Tigh nodded and called over to Rigel, "Inform all warriors who are
eligible that their furlons begin now."  
     Adama then cast a pensive glance at the executive officer, "I take
it there's been no word on the Pegasus?"
     "No word," Tigh shook his head.
     The commander let out a sigh of regret, and motioned Omega to come
over.
     "Omega," he said, "You can stop transmitting those messages aimed
at the Pegasus."
     The bridge officer stiffened slightly.  Two of his former
classmates from warrior training were stationed aboard the Pegasus, and
he hadn't received a single opportunity to share any kind of reunion
with them since the battlestar's discovery.  Still, he immediately
nodded and went back to his station.  
     "You've given up on him?" the executive officer delicately asked.
     Adama swivelled in his chair and looked at his friend, "Tigh,
those signals aren't serving a purpose anymore.  If Cain's dead, he
won't answer them, and if he's alive, he has no intention of ever
answering them."
     "Adama," Tigh said, "Man to man, what do you think the chances are
of him still being alive?"
     The commander smiled thinly.
     "I'll put it this way," he finally said, "I don't think the last
chapter in his story has been written yet.  For now, I think he's just
come to the conclusion that he can fight his battles more effectively
if he doesn't have to answer to my authority."
     "That's always been his method, hasn't it?"  The executive officer
had a faint air of disdain in his voice, as the unpleasant memories of
the last few days that had impacted him more than he would have liked,
came back to him.
     Adama chuckled.
     "Do you know what the real irony is, Tigh?" he said, "If Cain's
overeagerness for battle hadn't gotten the better of him one time at
the Academy, he would have had every legal right to be giving me
orders."     
     Tigh frowned slightly, "I thought you received your commission one
semester ahead of him."
     "I did," Adama said, "And as you know, that's my only legal
authority over him, since the status of Martial Law means that the
senior most warrior is officially Supreme Military Commander.  If he'd
officially outranked me, that would have technically trumped even my
position as President of the Council under a Martial Law status.  But
Cain actually entered the Academy two semesters ahead of me."
     The executive officer's interest was piqued, "What got him into
trouble?"
     "The Baptism of Fire ritual."
     Tigh's eyebrows went up.  After completing four years of classwork
and technical training, it had always been standard operating procedure
for Academy cadets to fly one successful combat flight in the company
of twelve experienced viper pilots before becoming eligible for
commission.  Along the way, one cadet had dubbed the practice the
Baptism of Fire ritual, and the term had always stuck through
succeeding generations of cadets.
     "Let me guess," the executive officer ventured, "Did he get
overanxious that first time out?"
     "He did," Adama nodded, "He was placed with a squadron from the
Ricon.  They were supposed to destroy some Cylons that were harassing
civilian convoys between the inner and outer colonies.  Well no sooner
were they away, when Cadet Cain, who had already received the highest
training marks of any cadet in more than a hundred yahrens, started
questioning the flight leader's strategy and judgment on what formation
to fly, how to approach the ships, and every other little thing that
Commander Kronus had given careful instruction on.  And before you knew
it, Cain had literally taken command of the patrol himself."
     "How did the engagement turn out?"
     "Naturally, it was a total success," the commander smiled thinly,
"Not a single Cylon escaped, and not a single viper was lost.  But that
gross deviation from the rulebook and the established chain-of-command
did not sit well with Commander Kronus and his passion for regulations. 
He was a personal friend of the Academy Commandant, and tried to use
his influence to get Cain expelled."
     "Ah," light suddenly dawned on Tigh, "Now I know why you didn't
call Kronus over from the Celestra for any input during the battle."
     Adama nodded.  The former commander of the Battlestar Ricon had
retired from active duty, two yahrens before the Holocaust. But after
being evacuated safely in the Exodus, had been reactivated and placed
in command of the fleet's largest maintenance ship.  From time to time,
Adama had given the ex-commander the courtesy of offering some input
during potential combat planning situations, but ever since Commander
Cain's discovery, Adama had not contacted Kronus once.
     "Exactly.  The two of them still hate each other with a passion."
     "I take it though, that the Commandant wasn't willing to go along
with that idea?"
     "The Commandant knew that Cain was too good and too brilliant for
any punishment that drastic.  But he decided to placate Kronus a
little, and had Cain suspended for three semesters.  And that," he
chuckled, "Is how I got my commission ahead of him, and had the
authority to pull rank on him under the Seniority System."
     "Incredible," Tigh shook his head in amazement.
     "Yes," Adama turned around and looked at the starry expanse that
filled the viewing screen, "My instincts tell me he's still out there,
somewhere, Tigh.  And somehow, someday, when he thinks he can do it on
his terms only, we'll be hearing from him again."
     "Does that really make him such a noble figure, Adama?"  Tigh
decided to get all the things about Cain that had been bothering him
off his chest at long last.  "Two yahrens ago, Cain decided it was more
important to fight his own battle with the Cylons when we needed him at
home more than ever.  And now, when our Fleet still needs him...."  He
trailed off, unable to go further.
     "Tigh," Adama put his hand on his friend's shoulder.  "I
understand where you're coming from, but you're doing Cain a
disservice.  I think in his own way, he really believes he's doing us a
favor by fighting the Cylons on his own, especially if anything he does
to tie them up back in Cylon space forces the Empire to divert more of
their resources to handling the problem of him, as opposed to searching
for us."
     "Okay," Tigh nodded reluctantly.  "You have a point, but when it
comes to what happened two yahrens ago...."
     Adama abruptly cut the executive officer off.  "Tigh, that's even
more unjust.  What would Cain's protests have accomplished if he'd been
there while Baltar was deluding us all, and getting Adar to sign the
treaty that sealed our fate?  I had my own doubts, and so did Fairfax,
but even we, as members of the Council couldn't make headway with those
who trusted our judgment about such matters more than they trusted a
non-member like Cain. Maybe it would have made a marginal difference in
terms of numbers of lives lost, but I don't think it would have changed
much.  We were making our own Destruction inevitable with the long-term
sickness of fatigue and loss of will.  I really don't see how one man,
even a legend like Cain, could have stopped that disease from spreading
amongst our people, because it's the kind of thing that military genius
couldn't come up with a solution for."
     The executive officer calmly exhaled as he realized that Adama had
made some powerful points that he had failed to consider after his
unpleasant experience as acting commander of the Pegasus had left Tigh
with feelings of bitter resentment toward Cain, and the adulation his
crew was always ready to give the Juggernaut.
     Tigh allowed himself only a faint nod as he went back to the other
side of the bridge.
      

     For the fifth time in the last two days, Apollo found himself
stopping by the Life Station to check on the progress of those who'd
been wounded in the recent battles.  He noticed with relief that the
room that had been nearly full just two days earlier was now
practically empty.
     "Hello, Apollo," Dr. Salik looked up as he saw him enter.
     "Hello," Apollo smiled at him, "Looks as though every one's
finally out."
     "Modern medicine is a wonder, Apollo," the middle-aged doctor came
over to him, "Just ten yahrens ago, it would have required a minimum of
a sectan's recuperation to get over the kind of injuries some of these
warriors suffered.  But now, they end up in and out of here in only a
day or two."
     "That's good," Apollo said, "We're still not a hundred percent
sure that things will be getting back to normal, Doctor, so the more of
these warriors we have back, the better."
     "Especially Lieutenant Sheba?" Salik asked with a pointed edge.
     Apollo didn't change his expression, "She's a good warrior, Dr.
Salik.  The sooner she's able to help us again, the better."
     "I'm only asking, because you seemed to be taking a special
interest in her, these last two days."
     "Both her and Bojay," Apollo said, "I've been working real close
with them, as I'm sure you know."
     "I know," Salik nodded, "Cassiopeia gave me a very vivid account
of what you went up against on Gomorrah.  Not the sort of thing I would
have tagged along for, even if I were twenty yahrens younger."
     "Sheba and Bojay have been through a lot, Doctor," Apollo added,
"It won't be easy for them to adjust to life aboard here.  I just want
to make sure they're being well-treated."
     "No need to worry about that," Salik smiled, "They were, and as
you can see, they've both been released."
     "In that case, I'll be going," Apollo said, "And no offense, Dr.
Salik, but I hope I won't be seeing you again for awhile."     
     When Apollo left the hallway, he stopped to think for a moment
about the way Salik had asked that question about his interest in
Sheba's progress.
     Subconsciously, he had to admit that there was a quality to
Commander Cain's daughter that intrigued him.  Ever since he'd first
seen the hologram image of her beautiful visage in Cain's quarters and
learned that she was the pilot who'd nearly blasted him out of the sky,
he'd found himself developing a deep admiration and respect for her,
even as they'd gone at each other's throats during the controversies of
the last sectan, especially when Adama had briefly relieved Cain of his
command.
     For just a brief instant, he considered the possibility that he
was developing an attraction to her, and then he quickly pushed the
idea out of his head and felt himself flooded with guilt for having
considered it.  Ever since Serina had been taken from him on the sands
of Kobol, he'd made a silent vow not to let any other woman come into
his life, and he was determined to hold to that vow.
     He'd struggled with that vow when he'd crashed his viper and been
stranded briefly on an isolated human settlement on the planet
Equellas, and had met a compassionate woman named Vella.  But after his
viper had been fixed, and he'd made what he'd known was an empty
promise of one day coming back, he'd been able to return to his life
aboard the Galactica and mentally block out those feelings he'd had for
Vella, permanently.  As he wanted it to be, the memory of Serina was
what reigned throughout his mind, heart and soul.
     By the time he approached the Officers Club entrance and saw
Starbuck emerge, he'd managed to bury all thoughts of the question he
had briefly contemplated.
     "Hey there you are," Starbuck said, "I've been looking for you for
two centars."
     "Sorry," Apollo said, "Just checking up on a few things."
     Starbuck looked back in the direction of where Apollo had come
from.
     "Wouldn't have been in the Life Station by any chance, would it?"
     "As a matter of fact, it was," Apollo was nonchalant, "They
finally got all our wounded from the battle out of there, and none too
soon."
     "Including our new guest Sheba, right?"
     Apollo frowned at him, as he noticed the same edge in Starbuck's
question that had been there in Salik's.  Only this time, the edge to
it was even more pointed.
     "She's out and back to duty, if that's what you mean."
     "Yeah," Starbuck stuck a fumarello brand cigar in his mouth, "I
only asked, because it seemed like for the last two days, you were kind
of taking an interest in how she was progressing."
     Apollo stopped and grabbed Starbuck by the arm.
     "What exactly are you getting at, Starbuck?"
     The blonde lieutenant let out an awkward chuckle, "Guess I'd
better learn to keep my thoughts to myself."
     "No, come on," Apollo demanded in a low tone, "What are you
getting at?"
     His friend sighed, "Okay.  I have to confess that I noticed an
interesting look on your face when Cain first showed that hologram
image of her, and that ever since, you kind of seemed to want
to....well hover near her."
     "She's an attractive woman, Starbuck," Apollo said coldly, "You're
not the only person capable of admiring that without turning it into
something else."
     Starbuck was momentarily taken aback.  In all the yahrens he'd
known Apollo, this was the first time he could ever recall him making
such a harsh comment about Starbuck's ways with women.
     "Hey, I'm sorry, okay?" he held up his hands apologetically,
"Forget I ever said anything."
     "Good," the coldness didn't fade from Apollo's voice, "Keep it
that way."
     But as they resumed walking, Starbuck had the feeling that he'd
struck a nerve with his friend, and that the subject conceivably could
come up again in the future.  And then, another realization popped into
his head as he understood why Apollo would not have wanted to admit any
attraction to Sheba under any circumstances.
     Just then, they noticed Athena and an exuberant Boxey, who was
followed as always by his beloved robot daggit Muffit coming in the
other direction.
     "Hi Dad," Boxey smiled his widest grin at him.
     "Hi," Apollo smiled back and ran his hand through his son's hair,
"Where are you three off to?"
     "The Rejuvenation Center," Athena said, "I finally received a long
overdue furlon, and I'm going to spend it by taking on Boxey at every
game in sight."
     "The way he plays, you'll need all the luck you can get," her
brother said.
     "Can you come along Dad?" Boxey asked, "You can play the winner."
     His father shook his head, "We're still on Yellow Alert status,
Boxey.  I'm afraid I'll have to pass this time."
     "Trust me, your waiting will be dull," Athena said, "It's been
clear for two days now."
     Apollo leaned down and patted the robot daggit, "Look after them,
will you Muffy?"
     The robot let out a friendly yelp and wagged its tail.
     "And another thing," he whispered slyly, "Don't bark if you sniff
out more mushies.  He can't be having too much."
     "See you later," Athena resumed walking and waved at them.
     "See you," Apollo waved back as Boxey and Muffit followed them.
     Once they were gone, a puzzled Starbuck turned to Apollo.
     "Uh, Apollo," he said, "Was it my imagination, or did I get the
feeling that Athena didn't want to talk to me?"
     "I don't think it was your imagination," Apollo said as he resumed
walking.
     "Hey look, its not my fault that she--" Starbuck protested as he
caught up to him.
     "Starbuck," Apollo turned around and sounded reassuring, "I am not
holding anything against you, just because your relationship with my
sister is all but dead."
     Starbuck let out a sigh of relief, "Thanks.  I...figured you
weren't bothered, but hearing it from you makes me feel a lot better."
     "Friends stick together through anything," he paused briefly
before going on, "Speaking of which, how's Cassiopeia taking Cain's
second disappearance?"
     "Remarkably well, thank the Lords," Starbuck seemed to smile, "I
think she already accepted it even before we lost contact with him. 
She...really knows a lot about how his mind works."
     "So with you and my sister not doing much of anything anymore, and
with Cain out of the picture, does that clear the way for bigger and
better things with you and Cassiopeia?"
     Starbuck looked at him quizzically as he took another puff on his
cigar, "What'd you have in mind?"
     "I don't know," Apollo kept his expression dead panned, "What did
you have in mind?"
     His friend smiled only the faintest of smiles and slowly shook his
head, "No comment."     


     The Galactica's Rejuvenation Center was located deep in the
interior of the warship.  Designed to provide a different form of
leisure activity than the Officer's Club did, it boasted more than
twelve different types of computer and table games.  Not only was it
popular with all the children and civilians aboard the Galactica, many
off-duty warriors could often be found here, using the games as a means
of improving reflex action and hand coordination.
     "Well Boxey, you did it to me again," Athena said with only the
faintest trace of exasperation as the little boy's shot across the
table landed in the empty pocket at her end.
     Boxey came over to her end of the table and perched himself on the
side, "Yeah, isn't this fun, Athena?"
     "That's a pretty easy thing to say when you're winning, Boxey," a
voice from the other end of the room by the doorway said.
     Athena looked up in surprise and saw Boomer come up to them, "What
are you doing here, Boomer?  Apollo said that Blue Squadron was still
on Yellow Alert."
     The warrior's tone was relaxed, as he knelt alongside of where
Boxey was seated, "Well, even Blue Squadron pilots get a furlon once in
a while.  Once I reminded Colonel Tigh that I'd been at the top of the
list for a sectan, that finally got things in motion."
     "Now that's the mark of someone who's really been without a furlon
for too long," Athena smirked, "Throwing your weight around with the
executive officer."
     "Hey, it paid off, didn't it?  Now all I have to do for the next
twenty-four centars is relax."
     "Want to play compartment bulwarks with me?" Boxey asked him, "I'm
pretty good."
     "Oh?" he looked at the little boy quizzically, then shot a glance
at Athena who shook her head in indication of the futility she'd been
going through.
     "You're on," Boomer said as Muffit crawled on top of the table
from the other side and came over to where the three were congregated.
     "You'll be sorry, Boomer," a well-built warrior wearing the
insignia of a Colonial security guard smiled and shook a finger of
warning as he headed for the door to leave.
     "Come on Castor," Boomer replied good-naturedly to the man he had
recently been partnered with in the new Triad league that had been
organized.  "A Colonial Security guard is never much of a challenge for
a boy of six."
     "At least we do better than a Council Security goon would,"
Sergeant Castor grinned as he stepped out.
     "He's right about that," Boomer admitted, "A boy of three could
handle a guy like Reese in half a micron."
     "Agreed," Athena nodded.
     "Still want to play?" Boxey asked.
     "Absolutely," Boomer nodded, "And if you beat me, I got a surprise
for you."
     "I'll bet it's a mushy," there was no surprise in Boxey's voice as
the robot settled next to him.
     "How's a guy keep a secret around here?" Boomer lifted an eyebrow
in amazement.
     "I just trained him to sniff out mushies," he looked down at his
pet with pride.
     "Is there nothing he can't do?" the warrior said as he got to his
feet, "Okay, set them up and let's see if you can live up to your past
glories."
     Just then, the relaxed atmosphere of the Rejuvenation Center was
shattered by the sound of the Red-Alert klaxon.  The warning light
above the compartment door cast its eerie glow throughout the room.
     "Oh boy," Boomer's shoulders sagged in disappointment, "So much
for the stabilized situation."      


     "Commander," Tigh was hunched over Omega's console as the
Red-Alert lights came on throughout the entire bridge, "Come over here. 
Looks like a Cylon combat probe."
     Adama slowly made his way over.
     "Probably from the last of those three baseships at Gomorrah," the
executive officer added.
     The commander let out an exasperated sigh as he studied the
monitor.
     "That would be Baltar's ship.  The only one we know Cain didn't
take out," he said, "It looks as though all the efforts he made to get
the Cylon task force off our backs have come to naught.  Get Blue
Squadron launched to intercept."
     "Yes sir," Omega pressed the button that gave the order.


     Apollo and Starbuck were still walking down the corridor when the
alarm went off.
     "Oh, not again," Starbuck shook his head in disbelief, "Don't
Cylons ever take furlons of their own?"
     "Come on, let's get going," Apollo began sprinting for the
turbo-lift.


     In another area of the Galactica, a subdued Sheba had returned to
her new quarters only a centar earlier after being released from the
Life Station.
     The last two days had been a living nightmare for Sheba.  Her
entire world had literally been turned upside-down.  Just one sectan
earlier, her life had been content aboard the Battlestar Pegasus, as it
had been for the last two yahrens since her father, Commander Cain, had
taken the aged warship out into deep space after the Battle of Molocay.
     Then, the discovery of the Galactica had brought the first
disruption with the re-emergence of her father's one-time mistress
Cassiopeia.  She had slowly come to adjust to that development after
working alongside Cassiopeia in the commando raid on Gomorrah, and
developed a new respect and even friendship for her.  But what had
happened next had almost destroyed her emotional psyche.
     After the commando raid on Gomorrah, she had been injured when her
viper took a shot from a Cylon fighter.  She'd been evacuated to the
Galactica, and it was from her hospital bed that she had learned the
news that her father had gone off to engage two Cylon baseships and had
disappeared.  The destruction of the two baseships had been confirmed
by Apollo and Starbuck, but there was no indication of whether or not
the Pegasus had escaped safely.  For the last two days, all efforts to
contact the battlestar had been futile.
     With the exception of her Pegasus wingmate Bojay, who had also
been evacuated to the Galactica, Sheba was now totally cut-off from all
the friends she had known.  None of the rest of the Pegasus personnel
who'd been evacuated to the Fleet came from the ranks of men and women
she'd been well acquainted with.  Her narrow world for the last two
yahrens had been her father, the bridge personnel and the pilots of
Silver Spar Squadron.  And for the first time in her life, she realized
she'd be forced to go on without her father and the rest of that tight
support group she'd always leaned heavily on.
     Outwardly, everyone on the Galactica had extended a hand of
friendship to her, and they all had tried to sound reassuring notes for
her benefit.  Adama, reassuring her that the lack of a response meant
nothing, and that her father was probably maintaining radio silence to
keep his whereabouts hidden.  Starbuck, saying that as far he was
concerned, Commander Cain had just headed out into deep space just like
the last time at Molocay.  
     And Apollo.  Adama's son, whom she'd been almost at odds with from
the moment they'd met, when her patrol had opened fire on his before
they realized who they were, and later still, during the controversy
when Adama had briefly relieved Cain of his command.  Even during those
controversies though, and especially in the two days since the Pegasus'
disappearance, there was something in the way he'd been hovering around
her that made it almost seem if Apollo was going out of his way to be
with her.
     She wasn't sure if she was anxious to reciprocate.  Even when
Adama had extended his hand and asked her to consider herself a part of
his family until her father made contact with them again, she had
outwardly said yes, but inside, she was still torn with grief over what
had been taken from her.  Whether she could open herself up to new
friends in new surroundings was something she didn't know if she was
capable of doing at the moment.
     When she heard the Red Alert go off though, she knew right away
that she had to put her feelings aside and get back to the work she was
cut-out for as a warrior.  She wasted little time in getting into her
flight uniform.
     As she prepared to leave her quarters for the launch bay, she
picked up her helmet and suddenly stopped.  The helmet was a standard
issue Galactica one, totally different from the one she'd worn as a
member of the Pegasus.  Instantly, she felt a sharp feeling of
resentment that this had been issued to her so fast.  She might now be
technically among the Galactica's pilots, but her emotions and her
heart were still with her father and the friends she'd been forced to
leave behind aboard the Pegasus.
     She went over to her bunk, and saw that her old Pegasus helmet
with the equine logo on the front had been set aside in a corner. 
Calmly, she placed the Galactica helmet down and retrieved the Pegasus
one.
     Feeling more secure emotionally, Sheba then ran off at a brisk
pace for the launch bay.


     "Damn," Adama clenched his fist in disgust, "If we hadn't taken so
much time loading up the ships with all that extra fuel we took from
Gomorrah, we might have been further away from the quadrant by this
time."
     "Whoever would have thought that Baltar would be capable of
regrouping this fast," the executive officer grunted, "That isn't his
usual style."
     Suddenly, the readings on the board became more ominous.
     "That's not a combat probe," Adama said as calmly as he could.
     "They're mounting another major attack," Tigh nodded grimly.
     "Launch all remaining squadrons."
     The Red Alert klaxon wailed with even greater intensity, and some
of the bridge personnel who were attached to reserve squadrons got to
their feet and dashed off the bridge.
     "This could be their last desperate gamble," the commander's voice
picked up with intensity, "No telling what surprises we could be in
for.  Colonel Tigh, prepare the Galactica for heavy attack."
     The executive officer nodded and moved off to another part of the
bridge.
     Adama then turned to Omega, "Secure all compartments."
     The bridge officer flicked several switches.  One by one, all the
doors to each room and compartment aboard the great battlestar began to
slide shut.


     The tempo of activity in the launch bays picked up as the
remaining pilots arrived and got into their ships.  Within microns, all
those who had arrived were away.
     The darkly attractive Jenny, who was the lead supervisor for the
ground-crew attached to Blue Squadron frowned as the last vipers took
off.  During all that time, she hadn't seen anything of Boomer.
     As she saw the compartment doors slide shut, she knew that no
matter where he was, the pilot she regarded as one of the best aboard
the Galactica was going to miss the battle.
     She hoped his absence wouldn't be as costly as she feared it might
be.


     "Will you have to go?" there was an obvious air of disappointment
in Boxey's voice as he looked up at a tense Boomer.
     "Technically, I don't have to," Boomer said as the sound of the
first Red Alert continued to wail throughout the Rejuvenation Center,
"Still, I think I'd better put off my furlon for another time."
     Just then, the sound of the alert changed to the higher pitch, and
slowly, Boomer saw the compartment door start to automatically slide
shut.
     "Holy Frack, it's an all-out attack!" he blurted as he dashed
toward the door and tried to reach it before it closed.  The other
people in the room trailed him with great concern.
     Too late, the door closed just an instant before Boomer's
outstretched hand could stop it.
     The dark-skinned warrior sucked in his breath and turned around to
face the crowd that had gathered behind him.
     "Okay everybody," he said calmly and motioned his hands downward,
"Just go back to what you were doing.  Nobody's going anywhere until
this thing is over."
     Slowly, he made his way back to the other end of the room where
Athena and Boxey had remained.
     "Why did they close the doors?" the little boy asked without too
much concern.
     His aunt placed a protective hand on his shoulder, "Well, so that
if one part of the Galactica gets hit, it won't affect the rest of the
ship."
     "That prevents the oxygen from escaping if the hull is pierced,"
Boomer said and then uneasily looked about the room, "We had quite a
few of those problems the other day at Gomorrah.  I hope this old
girl's strong enough to take it again."
     "Looks like you and I picked a lousy day for a furlon," Athena
smiled weakly as she settled back on the couch at the end of the game
table.
     Boomer returned it, "Hopefully, this battle isn't going to end up
revealing how indispensable you and I really are."


     "Okay," Apollo sucked in his breath as he led Blue Squadron,
"Contact will be right now."
     The massive number of Cylon fighters then appeared.  They came in
closely packed columns that stretched to more than six fighters wide in
each row.
     Immediately, Apollo opened fire and picked off the first three in
the echelon.
     He tensed as he expected the blue streaks of return fire to come,
and kept his hand on his control stick, preparing for the roll maneuver
he'd have to go into once the Cylon ships opened fir.
     But nothing happened.
     Apollo frowned and lined up two more shots.  With still no return
fire, they both hit their targets with no difficulty.
     Behind him, Starbuck lined up behind a formation of three ships,
and had them all destroyed in less than a five second span.
     He too, was greeted with no return fire.
     Sheba felt her normal reflex actions come back without any
trouble.  With no after-effects of her injuries, she too destroyed
three fighters without any return fire.
     "This sure is easy," she spoke up.
     "A little too easy," Starbuck radioed back, "They're not fighting
back.  What the frack are they up to?"
     "I have no idea," Apollo was baffled, "They aren't even moving at
their top speed.  I guess we should take advantage of it though."
  

     Aboard the lead Cylon fighter, there was no concern at all from
the command pilot as virtually all of the ships to his left and right
were destroyed with no return shots.
     "Follow the programmed coordinates," he said to the other two
pilots, "Ignore the Colonial vipers."
     "By your command," the first one responded.
     It mattered not to the command pilot's robot mind that he had been
programmed for a mission where he would deliberately destroy himself. 
To him, the overriding part of his programming, the destruction of
humanity, was all that counted, and if he should destroy himself while
doing so, that was of no consequence.  Other Cylons would be ready to
take his place long after he was gone.
     His craft plowed ahead and managed to get by the first line of
viper defense.


     "There's still too many of them," Sheba looked at her screen and
saw even more fighters emerge, "Where's that help?"
     "Right behind you," a familiar voice that she recognized as
Bojay's came through her helmet.
     Instantly, Sheba felt herself relax.  Hearing Bojay's voice almost
made it seem as if she were still flying a mission aboard the Pegasus.
     "Glad you made it out of the Life Station in time, Bojay,"
Starbuck replied, "Right now, take your pick.  Base level one of the
simulator was more difficult than this."
     The Pegasus veteran opened fire and like the others, was able to
pick off three ships in less than five seconds.


     "Commander," Tigh came up to Adama, "All squadrons are engaged,
but there's something wrong.  We're outnumbered, but we're blowing them
out of the skies.  They don't seem to be fighting back."
     The commander raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.
     "Cylon fighters aren't known for their brilliant marksmanship," he
said, "But for them not to open fire at all doesn't make sense,
unless..." he trailed off.
     "Unless what?" the executive officer asked, "Suicide runs?"
     "Yes, it could very well be.  Omega!" he barked, "Bring all laser
turrets to full power!"


     Apollo and Sheba had pursued the lead echelon of fighters, which
now numbered four.  Together, they took care of the second and fourth
fighters from that group, but the first and third were able to roar
past them and get by their line of fire.
     "Galactica, this is Blue Leader," Apollo radioed with more than a
note of concern, "Two from the first wave have broken through."
     "Our laser turrets will take care of them," he heard his father's
calm voice reply.
     But before Apollo decided to turn back and face the next wave, his
nagging concern caused him to scan the two Cylon ships.
     The reading suddenly caused his blood to run cold.
     "Father, those ships are packed with solonite!" he blurted, "They
clearly intend to ram!"
     Apollo then hit his turbo and began a frantic effort to catch up
with the two fighters before they reached the Galactica.
     In the distance, he could see them draw closer to the battlestar,
and it seemed more than likely that he wasn't going to get them in
time.


     Adama felt his body tense when he heard his son's last message.  A
normal suicide run was one thing, but a fighter packed with solonite
carried implications that were far more ominous.
     "Positive shield, now," he still kept his voice under control.


     The two Cylon fighters broke off from their single arc and assumed
different headings.
     The first one went into a delicate banking maneuver and now aimed
itself squarely at the Galactica's bridge.
     "One micron to impact coordinates," the first pilot intoned.
     The command pilot's robotic mind almost felt a sense of what the
human mind would call a deep sense of satisfaction.


     "It's headed for the bridge," the panic rose in Apollo's voice as
both he and Sheba made one last attempt to take the first one out.
     The two of them both opened fire with all the rapidity they could
muster.
     "Got him locked in my sight," Blue Leader clenched his teeth as
the fighter began to flash on his target computer.
     The Cylon craft was almost on top of the bridge as Apollo hit the
fire button as hard as he could.

     
     The Cylon fighter was only twenty feet from crashing into the hull
of the battlestar when Apollo's shot finally got the craft.
     In getting it, Apollo had prevented the fighter from using its
lethal cargo of solonite to cause an unholy chain reaction that would
have destroyed everyone and everything aboard the bridge.
     But because the Cylon fighter exploded so close to the ship, it
still produced a powerful shock wave that slammed full force against
the bridge.
     In an instant, the shield protecting the bridge crumbled, and the
shock wave went through the entire area.
     All about, people were thrown from their positions, some sent
crashing into the machinery, others hurled clear across the room.
     Towards the center, Tigh was tossed off the upper center of the
bridge and hurled under the console on the next level.  Amazingly, the
only injury the executive officer sustained was a bruise to his right
hand.
     Omega was thrown backward as sparks erupted from his console and
the entire bridge system shorted out.
     Not far from where Tigh had been standing, Adama had grabbed on to
the railing separating the upper level from the lower one and came
through the first blast unhurt.
     But then came the second blast.
     The second explosion roared with such intensity, that in an
instant, portions of the ceiling bulkhead began to give way.
     Before anyone had time to react, a large section of the bulkhead
suddenly crashed down on to the center of the bridge.  Right where
Adama had tried to hastily shield himself.


     Apollo saw the explosion just above the bridge, and could see the
secondary explosions erupt as a result of the shock wave.
     Right away, he felt a sick sensation in his heart and knew the
situation was very bad.
     "Galactica bridge, this is Apollo," he signaled with a great deal
of tension, "Come in."
     There was no response.
     "Galactica bridge, this is Apollo," his voice rose in pitch,
"Answer!"
     Still nothing.
     Frustrated, Apollo banged his hand against the console and looked
about, "Sheba, where'd that other Cylon go?"
     "It took another track, there's no way we can get to it," a note
of alarm had entered her voice, "Starbuck, can you get it before it
reaches the Galactica?"
     "I've got it in pursuit," Starbuck replied.  The sense of ease
he'd felt earlier when the ships didn't fire back was gone now. 
Inside, he felt more tense than he'd ever felt in any previous combat
engagement.
     He fired at the lumbering Cylon craft.  And missed.  The target
remained in front of him, but it was hovering too high on his attack
computer.  A clean shot was impossible.
     Just ahead, loomed the imposing spectacle of the Galactica's port
landing bay.
     Starbuck's heart was pounding so fast, he almost felt it would
explode right through his uniform.
     "Boomer," he whispered under his breath, "Where are you when I
need you?"
     He fired again, this time more in desperation.  As he had already
known it would, the shot missed.  The Cylon fighter was still too high
on the attack computer.
     "Galactica bridge," he radioed, "He's headed for the port landing
bay.  I can't get him in time."
     "Try anything, Starbuck!" Apollo shouted back, "Don't let him get
there."
     "I'm sorry, Apollo," for the first time in his life, there was a
sense of regret and defeat in Starbuck's voice. "There's nothing I can
do."
     The three pilots could only watch in mute horror as the Cylon
fighter streaked toward the landing bay in what seemed like an ordinary
landing approach.


     "Five microns to impact," the lead Cylon pilot intoned with that
same sense of satisfaction that his counterpart in the first fighter
had felt.
     The fighter entered the landing bay on a perfectly straight arc. 
And then, as soon as the craft was completely inside, the pilot's last
act was to hit his thruster on an upward heading, straight into the
landing bay's ceiling.
     The explosion from the fighter's impact with the landing bay was
powerful, in and of itself, but it was the type of impact that the
Galactica had long been used to.  For hundreds of yahrens, she had
taken suicide hits to her landing bay, and had always been able to
weather them with minimal short-term damage.
     But as the solonite tanks inside the fighter ruptured, they
produced their deadly chain reaction, and set off a second explosion,
the likes of which the great battlestar had not known in more than five
hundred yahrens of service.
     A massive fire erupted down the entire length of the landing bay
and rapidly spread into zones that were ordinarily safe from
conventional attack.
     The Main Energizer that provided power for the entire ship was
located two compartments in back of the landing bay.  Though shielded
from the roar of the fire, the shock wave smashed through the room and
totally destroyed the sleek piece of equipment.
     The Boraton Mist Control Center, which served as the main base of
operations and distribution for the Galactica's fire team, was also
wiped out in the same explosion.  The four fireman stationed there to
monitor all fire fighting activity, as well as control pressure of the
boraton to all the hoses throughout the ship, all died in a wall of
flame before having a chance to realize what had happened. 
     To one side, the main wall of the fire was carried by another
explosion, which sent the inferno on two separate arcs through a series
of vents and corridors deep into the battlestar's interior.
     Directly in the path of the explosive power, was the Rejuvenation
Center.


     Some of the twenty-odd people who had gathered in the Rejuvenation
Center had awkwardly tried to go back to their games when the attack
began.  Boomer, Athena and Boxey though remained seated at the back end
of the game table, each of them feeling somewhat too apprehensive to
resume playing.
     They felt the room shake and vibrate for several seconds when the
diminishing shock wave of the bridge explosions came their way.
     "That was pretty serious," a note of alarm entered Athena's voice,
while her nephew somewhat impulsively threw his arms around her.
     "Yeah," Boomer felt only a raging tide of frustration at not being
able to take part in the battle.
     And then, without warning, the power of the landing bay explosions
hit them.
     The ones closer to the vents took the worst of the explosions.
Some suffered instantaneous burns from the flash fire that momentarily
belched through the openings.  Others were tossed into the air and felt
their bodies slammed against pieces of game equipment.
     Boomer grabbed both Athena and Boxey and instantly shielded them
on the other side of the game table.  Their bodies were pelted by a
large amount of light debris before the explosion ended as abruptly as
it had began.
     "You okay?" he quickly glanced down at the two of them.
     Athena dimly nodded.
     As Boomer scrambled to his feet, a thick acrid smoke filled the
room.
     "I thought we were too far inside for a laser hit," Athena was in
a state of near-shock.
     "We are," the warrior gave his first quick look around, "That was
something else."
     And then, one final small explosion came from the back end of the
Rejuvenation Center.
     "Frack Almighty," Boomer stumbled forward as he tried to begin a
hasty evaluation of the situation.


     From outside, Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba had the best view of what
the lone hit had done to the great battlestar.  The first explosion in
the landing bay had been bad enough to watch, but nothing had prepared
them for the horrible sight of the second massive explosion caused by
the solonite tank.
     "Oh my God," Starbuck whispered in horror at the sight.  He hadn't
seen a battlestar look so bad since he'd witnessed the destruction of
the Atlantia during the Holocaust.
     An anguished Apollo again hit his radio, "Apollo calling Commander
Adama, come in!"
     There was still no response.
     "Come in!" he was almost pleading.
     "Hey Apollo," Jolly's voice cut in, "The three of you get back
here and help us.  We've still got about three dozen more Cylon
fighters headed this way."
     Apollo barely comprehended him, "I've got to find out what's
happened there.  Galactica bridge, this is Apollo!"
     "Apollo, Jolly's right," Starbuck retorted, "We haven't got time
to find out.  We've got to make sure no more of those incoming Cylons
get through.  One more hit, and the Galactica is finished."
     When there was no response, an exasperated Starbuck finally
signaled the third viper in the area, "Sheba, are you coming with me?"
     She could barely take her eyes off the horrible sight of the
Galactica, but she immediately nodded, "I'm with you, Starbuck."
     They went to their turbos and pulled away from the burning
battlestar.
     A moment later, a reluctant Apollo hit his turbo and went back to
join the main battle.


     The bridge was in a state of shambles as two more consoles erupted
in a shower of sparks.  It took a while before anyone who'd been
relatively unhurt by the explosions felt safe enough to move about.
     Tigh pushed aside some debris and made his way back to the center
of the bridge.  He froze in horror when he saw the prone form of Adama,
unmoving on the floor, a column of debris lying on top of him.
     With anguish, he reached the commander and opened his eyes. They
were clearly dilated.
     The executive officer looked up and saw that a concerned Omega had
also arrived on the upper level and was also bent over Adama's
unconscious form.
     "Get Dr. Salik, fast!" Tigh ordered.  The bridge officer nodded
and quickly moved away.
     "The Lords help us," he whispered as he took Adama's weak pulse,
"The Lords help us all."
     He then let go of Adama's hand and tried to shake himself out of
his stunned stupor.  The responsibilities now rested with him. He was
now Acting Commander, and he had to start acting assertive right now.
     "Get a team over here to start cutting away this bulkhead!" he
barked at several other technicians who'd gotten to their feet.
     "It'll take some time to locate the right tools, Colonel," one of
them gently protested.
     "I do not care, just do it!" he raised his voice to a shout.
     Tigh then felt his body deflate considerably.  Raising a ruckus
didn't make him feel any easier or more secure.
     Calmly, he went back to where Adama lay and again felt his weak
pulse.  Determined not to leave his commander's side for the moment.
     

     By the time the vipers of Starbuck, Sheba and Apollo had rejoined
the main battle group, they saw that the columns of Cylon fighters were
rapidly dwindling.
     "Probably about two dozen left," Apollo struggled to get some of
his warrior's professionalism back, "Don't let a single one survive."
     "There still hasn't been one that's returned fire," Bojay could
scarcely believe it, "It looks as though all of them are packed with
solonite."
     "And more than a hundred all told," Sheba said, "Now we know why
that last basestar was laying low for the last two days."
     "Leave it to Baltar to come up with something like that," there
was a distinctly bitter edge in Starbuck's voice as he took aim and got
two more fighters.
     As the number of fighters became fewer and fewer, it suddenly
became more difficult to lock on to the remaining ones.
     "Eight more left," Bojay reported, "Shouldn't be much longer."
     "Yeah, but now they're not packed together anymore.  This is where
it got tricky with the other two," Sheba responded to her fellow
Pegasus veteran.
     "All squadrons drop back," Apollo barked, "Make sure there's a
wall between here and the Galactica that those remaining fighters
couldn't possibly get past."


     Tigh found himself unable to leave Adama's side as some semblance
of order tried to return to the shattered bridge.  He'd always regarded
Adama as a great tower of strength, and found it impossible to
reconcile that image with the man who lay sprawled across the floor.
     Suddenly, he noticed Adama stir, ever so slightly.
     "Adama?" he leaned forward.
     The commander's eyes opened only a crack, "Tigh," his voice was a
thick and nearly inaudible whisper.
     "I'm here Adama," his long-time friend tried to sound reassuring.
     "Casualties?" the commander barely croaked the word out.
     The executive officer shook his head, "I don't know."
     "Dam--age?" the next word came out with even more difficulty.
     "Bad," Tigh let out a deflated sigh, "Apollo was right.  Those
Cylon fighters were packed with solonite."
     "New...low...even for...Cylons."
     "We put out all the fires here on the bridge with boraton mist,"
Tigh said, "But as for the rest of the ship, I just can't tell yet."
     "Colonel Tigh!" Omega blurted from the other side of the bridge,
"Deep scan has been knocked out.  Internal communications too."
     Tigh lowered his head and softly repeated the news for Adama,
"We've lost deep scan."
     Omega made his way around the center to where Tigh was, "We've
set-up an emergency radio system.  Right now, we can talk to our
pilots, but that's it."
     "How many of those Cylon fighters are left out there?"
     "They say less than ten.  Right now, they think they can keep them
from getting through."
     "They'd better," the executive officer grunted.  He then took a
breath and slowly raised his voice to a level of authority, "See what
you can do about internal communications.  And I want those scanners
operational as soon as possible."
     "Colonel," Omega protested, "The scanners have had it, they're
completely destroyed."
     "Vipers...will be our eyes," Adama managed to speak.
     Tigh nodded.  He was letting himself be rattled more than he could
allow, since he knew he should have thought of that first.
     "Inform the pilots," he said to Omega, "As soon as they finish off
the rest of those Cylons, keep at least two squadrons flying."
     "Yes sir," the bridge officer nodded and left.
     Tigh looked down at Adama's limp form and thought for a moment of
the cruel ironies.  All his life, he'd dreamed of having his own chance
at commanding a battlestar, and for the second time in a week, the
opportunity was being presented to him under distasteful circumstances. 
The first time, he'd been forced to step in as acting commander of the
Pegasus when Adama had relieved Cain.  The cold stares of contempt from
Colonel Tolen and all the other warriors aboard the Pegasus had been
enough to make him realize that the reality of command was never going
to match any of the dreams he'd once held.
     And now, he was forced to take charge with the Galactica battered
as she'd never been battered before, and on the verge of
self-destructing altogether.
     If by some miracle he came through this, he doubted that he'd ever
have a pleasant dream about command responsibilities again.


     "Down to seven left," Jolly said as he took care of another Cylon
fighter.
     "Make it five," Starbuck chimed as two more fell victim to his
fire.
     "Make sure there's at least one other viper with you," Apollo
spoke up, "Single ship-to-ship combat won't be enough of a guarantee."
     Starbuck seemed to notice a double-edge to his friend's words, and
wondered if in some subtle way that last remark was directed squarely
at him.
     He decided to hold his tongue as he and Bojay hooked up and chased
down two more of the remaining ships.
     One-by-one, with almost agonizing slowness, the remaining fighters
were blasted away.
     All except one final fighter.
     "It's in your sector, Jolly," Apollo barked, "Get it."
     "Affirmative," the fat warrior hit his turbo and sized it up.
     But then, before he could press the fire button, the fighter
suddenly went into an abrupt banking maneuver and veered itself
directly at Jolly's viper.
     The collision warning sounded in Jolly's cockpit and he had no
choice but to hit his own turbo and go into an evasive roll.
     The Cylon fighter safely flew past.
     "Frack, he pulled some fancy maneuver on me, he's gotten through!"
Jolly shouted.
     "Somebody pick it up!" Apollo also shouted, with just a note of
terror entering his voice.
     "Pursuing," Sheba could barely keep the terror she felt herself
submerged as she hit her turbo.
     The daughter of the man known as the Juggernaut tried to summon
all that calm under battle conditions that had made her father famous,
and which he'd often claimed with pride that she'd inherited from him.
     The fighter came within her field of vision, streaking toward the
Galactica.
     "Heading for the starboard landing bay," she clenched her teeth.
     "This is it, Sheba," Apollo's voice was at its most grave, "If he
gets through, the Galactica's finished."
     "Will you shut the frack up and let me concentrate?" she angrily
shouted back.
     Apollo was taken aback by her feisty retort, but dutifully fell
silent.
     A hush came over the other pilots as they watched Sheba's viper
pursue the last Cylon fighter.
     Closer, they drew toward the undamaged starboard landing bay.


     "Forty microns to impact," the lead Cylon pilot intoned.
     And once again, a sense of programmed satisfaction that his
mission was going to be accomplished began to take hold. 


     Sheba's eyes were locked on to her attack computer.  As had been
the case with Starbuck's pursuit of the other fighter, the Cylon craft
hovered just a little too high.
     "Come on," she whispered, "Come on."
     As the landing bay loomed closer, she decided that it had come
down to one last tactic.  Adjust her nose a fraction of a degree up. 
It had to be an infinitesimal adjustment, because overcompensating too
much would put the fighter too low for her line of fire.
     She applied her finger to the control stick with all the
delicateness of a surgeon performing an operation.
     After what seemed like an eternity, the image of the Cylon fighter
on her attack computer dropped down ever so slightly.
     And then, the image blinked, indicating that it was locked.

     
     "Thirty microns to impact," the lead pilot again intoned.
     In front of him, the first Cylon pilot placed his robotic hand on
the control stick, preparing for the micron when he'd take the craft on
its abrupt upward trajectory once it was inside the landing bay.


     In an instant, Sheba pressed the fire button and held her breath.
     Twenty five microns short of the landing bay, the laser shots
blasted the Cylon fighter to infinity.  The shock wave of the explosion
dissipated harmlessly, and caused no further damage to the battlestar.
     As Sheba slowly exhaled, her helmet was filled with the sound of
all the other pilots exhaling as well.
     "Way to go Sheba," Bojay said with more than a hint of pride.
     "Thanks," she tried not to sound drained.
     Starbuck still couldn't take his eye off the burning landing bay. 
In the face of Sheba's last-second success at destroying the third
fighter, he couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't taken all the risks
he could have to prevent the other fighter from escaping his pursuit.
     He thought back to that time when he had been captured by Baltar
and brought aboard the traitor's basestar as a prisoner.  The first
words he had spoken to Baltar had been filled with anger.  A desire to
give his life for just one shot at the traitor.
     As he saw the eerie orange glow of fire in the landing bay
intensify, that desire raged through him again.
     "Okay," Apollo took charge again, "That takes care of the Cylons. 
But we're not out of the woods yet.  Blue and Red Squadrons, prepare to
land in the starboard bay.  All other squadrons stay on watch in case
more of them come back."     
     As Apollo drew his ship toward the burning battlestar, he could
only wonder what kind of horrors had already taken place, and whether
or not the damage that had already been inflicted on the ship would
finish the job for the Cylons.

                                Chapter Two

     The man in charge of the Galactica's fire and damage-control team
was a middle-aged, gray-haired man named Jorda.  A seasoned veteran
with over thirty yahrens of service aboard several different
battlestars, it was his job to be ready with a team of firefighters
after every combat engagement, and do all he could to get the Galactica
back to working condition as fast as possible.
     Jorda had seen a lot in his thirty yahrens, but as he got his team
in place two compartments from the port landing bay, nothing prepared
him for the intensity of the inferno that now raged throughout the
corridor.
     He had already discovered to his horror that the worst possible
contingency for his men had come into play.  The Boraton Mist Control
Center, located in one of the adjacent compartments to the port landing
bay had been totally destroyed by the blast, and with it, his Chief
Deputy Fireman and three others who'd been stationed there.  And he
knew that if he had not left the center to check on the damage from the
hit to the bridge, he would have been dead too.
     With his main base for firefighting activities rendered useless,
he was now forced to rely on less reliable secondary storage units from
elsewhere in the compartment.
     "Put the boraton pressure to the max!" he shouted at Stone, the
fireman at the pump station controlling the hoses.
     Stone shook his head, "Sorry sir, but with the Control Center
gone, we can't get any more pressure than what we're getting now."
     One of the lead firemen who'd been spraying his hose all over the
forward end of the compartment to seemingly no avail, suddenly backed
away.
     "I don't like the looks of this," he lifted his helmet and said to
Jorda, "Right now, I don't see how we can possibly keep it under
control."
     "We have to figure a way out," the Chief Fireman retorted with no
sympathy, "Unchecked, this thing'll spread through this area and take
out the rest of the energizers and all the solonite tanks.  When that
happens, we're all dead.  So the sooner you stop complaining and get
back to that hose, the better."
     With nothing else to say, the lead fireman shrugged in dejection
and went back to his hose.
     As Jorda continued to keep track of the too-slow progress, another
fireman came up to him and tugged his shoulder.
     "Sir," he said, "Colonel Tigh needs an update on the situation."
     "Tell him he'll get one in a few centons," Jorda said above the
roar of the flames.  "I'll try to get to the bridge a little later."
     He looked back at the forward end and suddenly heard one of the
lead firemen shout, "Watch it, get down!"
     Jorda and the rest of the firemen instinctively ducked and a brief
sheet of flame passed over their heads.
     As the Chief Fireman cautiously got back to his feet, he idly
wondered if the ship would already be gone before he could keep his
appointment.

     
     In the Rejuvenation Center, a light cloud of foul-smelling smoke
still filled the room as Boomer worked his way to the main entrance. 
Around him, some of the more seriously injured were moaning in pain.
     He picked up the telecom that tied-in to the internal
communications network throughout the ship.  He heard only silence.  He
punched some of the buttons on the wall unit, but there was still
nothing.  The continued silence meant that the unit was damaged beyond
all repair.
     At the other end of the room, Athena helped attend to an injured
warrior who'd been hit by a flying piece of debris.  Blood oozed from a
wound above the warrior's eye.
     Instantly, Boxey volunteered to help and applied a small strip of
cloth that he'd torn from the game table, to the wound.
     "Hold it tighter, until the bleeding stops," his aunt gently
motioned.
     Athena then got to her feet and took a look around the room. 
Except for the game table at her end, which had been more solidly
constructed than any other in the room, all the other tables had been
upended and tossed about.  There wasn't much about the room
recognizable from the cheerful center of recreation and entertainment
it had been only moments before.
     Slowly, she shook her head in stunned amazement. 
     "I may never take another furlon again," she murmured to herself.


     Outside the Rejuvenation Center, the fire had already rapidly
spread throughout the corridor.  Flames covered the walls on almost all
sides.
     At the far end, where the flames were not as thick, one of the
other compartment doors slowly opened and seven warriors who'd taken
refuge in a storage area for spare uniforms when the attack had began
stumbled out.  Six of them immediately headed for the turbo-lift ten
feet away that would get them off the fire deck, but the seventh, an
imposing, muscular member of the Colonial Security unit named Sergeant
Castor, who had earlier left the Rejuvenation Center after losing two
games to Boxey, frantically motioned them to stop.
     "There are people trapped in the Rejuvenation Center!" he shouted,
"We've got to get that door open there, and let them out before it's
too late!"
     "Castor, have you lost your fracking mind?" Sergeant Lepus,
another member of the Security unit shouted back, "There isn't time for
that.  We've got to get off this deck!"
     "Don't you understand, I'd just come out of there!" Castor
retorted, "Boomer's in there, and so are the Commander's daughter and
grandson!"
     "You can't make it!"
     "I'm gonna try!  Hold the lift as long as you can!"
     Lepus watched in horror as Castor stumbled down the smoke and
flame filled corridor.  The other warriors frantically tugged at him
and motioned him to shut the lift doors, but he turned around and
barked, "I'm giving him twenty microns to wise up, turn around and come
back!"
     Sure enough, twenty microns later, Castor was stumbling back
toward the lift.  His uniform was blackened in several spots, and
scorch and burn marks lines his face.
     "It's no use," he said in dejection, "I can't get to them."
     Lepus dragged his fellow guard in and closed the turbo-lift doors
shut.
     

     "Galactica bridge this is Blue Leader," Apollo's voice was more
subdued than it had been for a while, "Port landing bay is destroyed. 
Blue and Red Squadrons will land in the starboard bay.  The other
squadrons will stay out and keep watch."
     "Affirmative, Apollo," Tigh said, "We'll keep two squadrons out on
a rotating basis.  You're cleared to land."
     "Colonel," Apollo hesitated slightly before asking his next
question, "What can you tell me about my father?"
     The executive officer was stoic, "Dr. Salik took him to the Life
Station a few centons ago.  You'll get better information from him."
     Apollo skipped a beat before continuing, "How's the situation
inside?"
     "It's still too vague," he said, "I should get a full report from
Jorda in a little bit.  But it doesn't look good, Apollo."
     "I figured as much.  As soon as I'm aboard, I'll do what I can to
help."
     "We'll need it," there was no flippancy in Tigh's voice as he shut
his headset off.
     Just then, Omega came up to the executive officer carrying a
hastily drawn-up clipboard.
     "Colonel," he said, "Here's the report from Jorda.  Main Energizer
number one destroyed.  Number two now operating at maximum capacity. 
Boraton Mist Control Center destroyed."
     Tigh noticeably winced, "You mean they have to use nothing but the
secondary units to tap into the main boraton storage tanks?"
     "I'm afraid so," Omega nodded and continued, "The fire's out of
control in Alpha Deck, Beta and Gamma sections.  All personnel have
been evacuated from the fire areas, except for those in the
Rejuvenation Center.  It's been cut-off."
     "How many in there?" Tigh asked.
     "About twenty," Omega's expression became more grave before he
went on, "Including Boomer, Athena, and the commander's grandson."
     The executive officer was clearly stunned by this news.  For a
moment, he was unable to say anything in response.
     "Okay Omega," he finally said, "Keep me posted."
     As Tigh made his way over to another console and saw the
indication that Apollo's viper was aboard, the thought of having to
talk to him again suddenly made him feel very sick.


     After giving up on the telecom for the last time, Boomer slowly
made his way back to the other end of the room where Athena and Boxey
were still comforting the warrior with the wounded eye.
     "Did you find out what happened?" the edge of childlike enthusiasm
that was always present in Boxey's voice was noticeably absent this
time.
     "No, Boxey," Boomer shook his head, "The telecom's dead."
     "That's not all," Athena said grimly, "The first aid supplies have
been destroyed too."
     "Great," Boomer rolled his eyes, "What else could possibly
happen?"
     Just then, the sound of Muffit barking caught their attention. 
The daggit was in front of the main door, and an even thicker smoke was
starting to creep underneath into the room.
     "I had to ask," Boomer shook his head in disbelief, "Athena, break
out the life masks."
     She shook her head and flipped him a battered and totally useless
mask, "I checked them too.  They were also destroyed with the first aid
supplies."
     Boomer fingered it for a brief instant and then tossed it aside in
disgust.
     "Felgercarb," he whispered, "There's got to be something we can
do."
     But at the moment, no ideas were coming to him.
     He cast another glance at the door.  The smoke coming in was
getting more and more thick, and he knew that he had very little time
to think of something.


     "Watch it!"  Jorda shouted again over the roar of the flames,
"It's going to flare again.  Get down!"
     Once again, Jorda, Stone and the two firemen up front, were forced
to duck in order to escape being consumed by another belch of flame.
     Stone, the fireman at the pump station shook his head, "There
might as well be a fracking timetable for those flare-ups.  We're not
making any headway at all."
     "You're right," the Chief Fireman conceded, "Get another unit
ready to fall back on the next station.  I'm not sure how much longer
we can keep manning this one."
     Jorda took another look at the blaze.  For a brief instant, his
mind went back thirty yahrens to his days at the Colonial Academy when
he'd first learned his trade, and how his aged instructor had kept him
up for nights on end with intricate descriptions of how a fire could
break out aboard a warship.  Nothing that wise old instructor had
taught him was of any use to the situation that now confronted him. 
The irony of it almost made him want to laugh.
     "I've got to send Tigh another report," he said, "I'll be back
here as soon as I can."
     "The fire may beat you to it," Stone said.
     As he walked away, Jorda finally let out that mirthless chuckle
he'd been suppressing.


     Cautiously, Boomer ran his hand over the main door.
     "Forget about going out through here," he said to Athena, "Even if
the fire wasn't as bad as I know it is out there, the automatic lock's
in place and there's no point trying to open it."
     "So what do we do?" she asked.
     Boomer drew himself up and spoke to the crowd of twenty, "Okay,
listen up.  Everyone over to the other side of the compartment.  Move."
     Athena calmly took hold of another injured warrior and guided him
over to the other side.  The other non-injured followed her lead and
did the same.
     As soon as everyone had moved over, Boomer began a critical
examination of the rear door that led to the Rejuvenation Center's main
storage compartment.
     "Frack," he grunted, "The impact must have twisted the bulkhead
just enough to jam the door."
     Athena uneasily looked behind her as the smoke continued to seep
in, "What are the chances of the other door holding?"
     Boomer shook his head, "About as much as the Cylons throwing me a
birthday party."
     "So what do we do then?"
     The pilot took out a screwdriver from his pocket.
     "If I can use this to get this door open," he immediately started
to go to work on the control panel, "We can get into the storage
compartment and close it behind us.  There should be some more
lifemasks in there."
     "You're going to use that?" a dubious note entered Athena's voice.
     "Well Athena," Boomer remained nonchalant as he unscrewed the
panel, "It doesn't show in my file, but when I was a kid on Caprica, I
hotlinked more hovermobiles than there are doors on this ship."
     For the first time in a while, a faint smile etched across
Athena's mouth.
     "And all this time, when I first met you at the Academy, I thought
you were the honest one, and only Starbuck had the dark secrets in his
locker."
     "Hey, somebody had to empathize with him," Boomer carefully took
the panel off, "The only difference between him and me, is that I left
all my bad habits behind at the Academy."
     "Yes," the faint smile faded from her face, "He still has a lot of
bad habits."
     Boomer paused briefly to look at her indifferent expression.
     "Sorry," he went back to the panel which was now exposing its
wiring, "I'd forgotten that you and Starbuck are practically a dead
item."
     "Probably for the best," she then changed the subject back to the
issue at hand, "If the fire gets through the main door though, won't it
get through this one?"
     "By that time, we'll all be through into the next compartment."
     "Ah," light slowly dawned on her, "And from there, to the next
one, and the next one after that."
     "Right."
     "How long until you get this one open?"
     Boomer let out a sigh, "Well, if this were a hovermobile, I could
tell you to the micron.  With this thing, I just don't know."
     Athena took another glance at the smoke coming under the main
door.  The foul-smelling cloud was growing ominously thicker.


     One-by-one, the vipers from Blue and Red Squadrons landed in the
undamaged starboard landing bay.  When they all emerged from their
cockpits, few of them were in much of a mood for talking to each other.
     As Sheba slowly walked toward the turbo-lift, Starbuck caught up
to her.
     "Sheba," he said, "I didn't get a chance to say it out there, but
thanks again for saving us.  That was one great piece of precision
flying."
     "Just did what I had to do," she said.
     "Yeah," there was a slightly dejected note in Starbuck's voice,
"If I had a little more of your discipline, maybe I would have gotten
that other one."
     "It's not your fault," Sheba instantly sounded reassuring as they
walked toward the turbo-lift, "Wouldn't Boomer normally have been
flying alongside you?"
     "He was on furlon and probably wound up stuck in the Officers Club
or the Rejuvenation Center," Starbuck said, "But that's still no excuse
for me."
     "Forget it," she said quickly, "The sooner we get focused on
saving this ship, the better."
     The normally brash lieutenant allowed himself a smile, "You're
right."
     Starbuck then glanced down at the helmet Sheba was carrying and
noticed immediately the equine-logo of the Pegasus.
     "Tough to let go, isn't it?"
     Sheba had all but forgotten she was carrying it, and when she
stopped to look at it too, she let out a matter-of-fact sigh.
     "Yeah, it is in a lot of ways," she said, "But you know something
Starbuck?  After taking part in that battle, and flying with all of
you, I think I can put this thing aside.  The next time I go out, I'm
going to be wearing the helmet that was issued me as a new Galactica
pilot."
     As the turbo-lift doors opened, Starbuck smiled and patted her on
the shoulder in a sign of fraternal respect for a fellow warrior.
     "Glad to have you on the team."


     Apollo had gone straight to the Life Station after landing his
viper.  When he reached the center, he found a scene that could only be
described as chaotic.  There were well over two dozen people being
treated for varying degrees of burns, while another group that had been
injured by blast debris had been placed in life pods.
     He saw Cassiopeia treating one of the burn victims and went up to
her.
     "Where is he?" he demanded in a low tone.
     The blonde med-tech uneasily pointed to the other end of the room,
where Dr. Salik was hunched over another life pod.  In it, Apollo could
see his father, lying with several tubes attached to his body.
     He carefully made his way through all the din of activity over to
Salik, who was talking reassuringly to Adama.
     "The...Galactica?" the commander's voice was still a thick,
croaking whisper.
     "Took some casualties and some damage," the middle-aged doctor
spoke casually, "But nothing that can't be fixed.  Including you.  Now
in the meantime, you get some rest."
     Salik then rose and promptly led Apollo away from Adama's life
pod.
     "Tigh said you were coming, so I'll give it to you straight," the
doctor's voice was less reassuring than it had been when he'd been
speaking to Adama, "A piece of the ceiling bulkhead fell on top of him,
and some small pieces of debris went right inside his body."
     "How is he now?"
     "His life signs have stabilized a bit, but he's very weak.  As
soon as this whole situation is over, I'm going to have to operate
because there's one fragment of debris lodged near the wall of his
heart.  It's very bad."
     "Then operate now," Apollo said as if it were the most obvious
thing in the world, but Salik drew himself up to a posture of gentle
reproachment.
     "Now you listen to me, son," the doctor's voice was low, but
pointed, "There's no way I'm going to open up his or anyone else's
chest under these conditions."
     "Why the frack not?" Apollo softly retorted.
     "The fire has already destroyed one energizer," Salik held his
ground, "And if the other one goes, as well it may, all of the
equipment in the operating room will go out."
     The commander's son lowered his head slightly as he realized the
implications of what Salik was saying.
     "I don't think you want me poking around your father's heart with
a laser scalpel at a time like that."
     "No," Apollo nodded, "You're right."
     "I promise you though, as soon as I get word that Energizer two is
safe from any danger, I'll get started right away."
     "Can I at least talk to him?" there was an almost pleading edge to
Apollo's question.
     "You can," Salik said, "But be brief."
     The doctor moved off to another end of the room, while Apollo
slowly made his way over to the life pod where the battered Adama lay.
     Never before, had he been forced to confront the scene of his
father like this.  All his life, his father had been a tower of
unshakable and seemingly indestructible strength to him.  Since Adama
had never suffered injuries as serious as this, Apollo's childhood had
been spared all the traumas that other children of warriors had endured
whenever their fathers were injured seriously in battle.
     With trepidation, he reached Adama's life pod and looked down at
him.  His father could only move his dilated eyes to indicate his
awareness that his son was there.
     "Apollo," the voice was still that awful sounding rasp.
     "I'm sorry," his son whispered and choked back the emotion in his
voice, "I tried to get him sooner, but he was too far ahead of us.  If
I'd scanned them all for solonite in their tanks when the battle
started, I'm sure I could have gotten him sooner."
     "It wasn't...your fault," a reassuring note came through Adama's
raspy whisper, "You...all did your best."
     "Can I do anything for you?" again, it was a struggle to get the
words out.
     "You're...doing it right now," his father's eyes again glanced in
his direction, "Just...by being here."
     Apollo wished he could reach inside and squeeze his hand, but knew
he couldn't because of the pod's sterile chamber.
     Just then, Cassiopeia came up to him and also looked inside the
pod.
     "I...want to see...Athena..and Boxey again," Adama went on.
     "I'm sorry," Cassiopeia said gently to them both, "The doctor says
no more visitors."
     "Okay," Apollo nodded, "I'll talk to you later, Father."
     The med-tech gently guided him away from the pod.
     "You know something," a mirthless smile briefly crossed Apollo's
face, "I can remember growing up, how my mother always used to tell me
every time he had to go off on a mission, that I had to be prepared for
something like this to happen.  But he always came back without any
trouble, and I never had to give it a micron's thought.  I guess,
that's what makes the whole sight of him there even more difficult to
take."
     "The Lords have always watched over him, Apollo," Cassiopeia spoke
with a soothing aura, "They're not through with him yet."
     "Yeah," Apollo sighed and nodded, "I hope so."
     "I'll stay with him."
     "Okay," he drew himself up, "I'll be on the bridge."
     As Apollo neared the door that left the Life Station, he passed
another warrior who had serious burns on his face and a singed uniform.
     "Captain," Sergeant Castor called over, "I'm sorry.  I tried to
get them out of there."
     Apollo froze in the doorway and looked at him, "What are you
talking about?"
     "In the Rejuvenation Center," Castor took a breath, "Your sister
and son were still in there, along with Boomer.  I tried to get down
the corridor and open it up, but the whole area was cut-off by the
fire.  I'm sorry," he lowered his head, "I just couldn't get through
it."
     Apollo looked as if he'd taken a blow to the chin.  To learn this
information on top of everything else was almost too much to handle.
     He dashed out of the Life Station, and stopped in the corridor,
closing his eyes in anguish and leaning his head back against the wall.
     The cruel irony of what he'd been thinking a moment earlier about
how he'd suffered no childhood traumas over terrible things happening
to his father suddenly seemed even more cruel.  Now it seemed as though
his entire adulthood was to be spent making up for all that.  Zac.  His
mother.  Serina.  And now, the prospect of losing all the family he had
left.
     He felt like screaming every single profane epithet he could think
of.
     It took a long, moment of agonized contemplation before he could
find the strength to resume walking to the bridge.


     No sooner had Jorda returned from sending his latest update to
Tigh that he found the situation in the compartment that had been
uneasily status quo for too long now, was taking a serious turn for the
worse.
     "We can't hold it here any more!" the lead fireman shouted as he
struggled to keep aiming his hose at the inferno.
     Jorda banged his thick-gloved hand against the hot wall of the
corridor in frustration.  The amount of boraton they'd been pouring on
the blaze, theoretically should have put out a fire twice the size of
the one they were confronting.  But as this fire was proving, all the
theories they'd operated under for yahrens were fast becoming
irrelevant.
     Finally, he forced himself to put aside his professional pride and
admit the obvious.
     "Stone!" Jorda called over to the fireman manning the pump, "Is
that team at the other station in place?"
     "They're ready," Stone replied.
     "All right then," he motioned to the lead firemen, "Pull back
slowly.  We'll see what we can do from there.  I'm going to have to get
topside, and see if Tigh's got any new ideas on what we can do."


     Tigh felt only a slight trace of relief that Apollo had already
been told about the situation in the Rejuvenation Center, so at least
he'd been spared the distasteful task of telling him about it.  But as
he was fast discovering, having to explain that there was not much that
could be done about it, was no less distasteful either.
     "Are you sure there's nothing you can do?" Apollo asked for what
seemed like the tenth time to the executive officer.
     "I'm sorry, Apollo, we couldn't get to them," he said, "Even if
we'd been able to, it still wouldn't have been any good.  All the doors
surrounding the Rejuvenation Center are jammed." 
     "But there must be a way to find out if they're still alive,"
Apollo protested.
     "We can't," Tigh said as he stepped out of the way of a crewman
who was removing a portion of the collapsed ceiling bulkhead, "Internal
communications have been restored on this side of the fire.  Everything
on the port side, is still out."
     The executive officer started to move away, but Apollo gently
grabbed him by the shoulder.
     "Colonel," he said, "If they're alive, how long could they last?"
     Tigh sucked in his breath, "I don't know.  The fire is rapidly
consuming oxygen in that area.  Once it's gone, they'll have to use
their lifemasks.  And those would theoretically give them an extra
centar, if in fact they have them all.  But as the way things stand,
Apollo, the ship may have even less time than they do."
     Just then, they noticed the exhausted Jorda, his fire uniform
covered with scorch marks entering the bridge.
     "Come on, let's see how things are now," the executive officer
said as he and Apollo made his way over to him.


     Slowly, Boomer continued to work on the control panel to the
storage compartment.  The wires were now exposed, and he carefully
calculated the intricate areas that connected them to the gear
mechanism.  There could be no room for error on this.  He knew very
well that one wrong application could short out the motor to the door's
gear mechanism and leave it permanently frozen in the closed position.
     As he kept working, he refused to look behind at the thickening
cloud of smoke coming under the door.  The last thing he needed was any
sense of panic to distract him.
     Finally, he sized up the wires and decided that everything was in
place.  He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to face the crowd.
     "All right, we're set," he said, "When this door opens, if it
opens, we get Boxey and the injured in first and then the rest of you. 
But make it fast, because I don't know how long I can keep it open."
     "Boomer," Athena motioned her head toward the main door, "It's
getting worse."
     The warrior sucked in his breath and took hold of the wires, "If
this were a hovermobile, she'd start on cue," he said under his breath.
     Carefully, he joined the wires together.  And then, a shower of
sparks forced Boomer to let go.
     "Frack," he whispered.  His worst nightmare about a wrong move
shorting out the gear mechanism may have just come true.  He tried
applying them again, but as he feared, nothing happened.
     For a long second, he stood there, trying to think of what he
could do.
     "Wait a micron, I think I've got it," he pulled out his
screwdriver again, "I may have just used the wrong wave bond for that
connection.  If I change that," he made a small adjustment to the
circuitry, "That should hopefully do it."
     "And if it doesn't?" Athena asked with a note of fear entering her
voice.
     He looked her in the eye, "Then the motor's already shorted out,
and there's no way it'll ever open.  This is the last hand we can play
on this gamble, Athena."
     "Hurry," she whispered as she turned away and looked back at the
rising smoke cloud, "Hurry."
     Carefully, Boomer once again brought the two main wires together.
     Another shower of sparks erupted.  But this time, the crackling
sound was followed by the reassuring whoosh of the compartment door
sliding open.
     "Come on, hurry up!" Boomer barked as he continued holding the
wires together.
     The others got to their feet and with some helping the wounded
people, began to file in.
     "Move!" it was the loudest command he'd ever given.
     Athena quickly pushed Boxey and his robot pet through the doorway,
but still stayed by Boomer's side.
     "Let's go, Athena!" he ordered her, "Get moving!"
     "Boomer, what about you?" she asked with concern, "The door will
shut as soon as you let go of those wires, won't it?"
     "Just get going, I'll make it!"
     She reluctantly nodded and went through, leaving Boomer alone in
the room.
     Boomer's hands almost slipped, causing the door to partially shut
and go back open.  He looked back and saw the cloud increasing.
     "Come on, Boomer," Athena motioned, "Get in, now."
     Boomer sucked in his breath and sized up the opening.  He had to
time his jump just right.  If he wasn't quick enough, the door would
close on him and leave him trapped in the room.
     Slowly, he began a mental countdown from three.
     Just as he began his leap, the main door suddenly exploded against
the onslaught of the inferno outside.
     Incredibly enough, the force of the blast speeded his momentum
forward, and he tumbled through to the floor of the storage compartment
just as the door slammed shut.
     "Thank God," Athena let out a sigh of relief.
     Boomer slowly got to his feet, and felt something sticky in his
hip pocket.
     "Well Boxey," he said sheepishly as he came over to the little boy
and pulled the object out, "It looks like I, ah, mashed your mushy."
     "It's okay," Boxey managed to weakly smile as he impulsively threw
his arms around Boomer in relief, "Dad said I'd had too much anyway."
     Boomer let out a chuckle as he tossed the ruined candy aside and
reciprocated the light hug.
     At the other end of the compartment, Athena quickly checked one of
the storage bins.  Her shoulders sagged in disappointment when she saw
what was inside.
     "Boomer," she called over to him.
     Boomer gave Boxey a pat on the head and made his way over to
Athena.  Her expression was grave.
     "The telecom's dead in this compartment too," she said, "And there
are only five lifemasks."
     "Great," he gritted his teeth, "Okay we'll save them for later and
take turns with them."
     "Maybe we should try the next compartment, now."
     Boomer nodded, "Good idea," he went over to the door on the other
side and checked the circuits.  Then, he carefully placed his hand on
the door.
     "Ow!" Boomer felt an intense heat that made him pull his hand
away.
     "Are you okay?" Boxey came up and asked with concern.
     "Oh boy," Boomer looked about the cramped confines of the room as
he massaged his hand to ease the pain, "Now I know what it's like to
get stranded in the bottom of the Piscean Canyon.  The fire's hemmed us
in on all sides."
     "We're trapped then," Athena bit her lip.
     "There's got to be another way," he said defiantly, "There has to
be."
     "Boomer?" Boxey's voice quivered slightly.
     He looked down at him and saw that the little boy was trembling.
     "Hey," he knelt beside him and squeezed his hand, "Don't worry,
Boxey.  It'll be okay."
     "Am I gonna see my Dad again?"
     Boomer noticed a tear forming in his eye, and he gently wiped it
away.
     "Course you will, Boxey," he said gently, "Right now, I'll bet you
he's doing all that he can to make sure that he sees you again." 
     He then smiled reassuringly, "Now right now, you can make your
father proud by going back there and helping those people like the good
warrior you are.  Okay?"
     Boxey dimly nodded and slowly made his way back to the other end
of the room with Muffit trailing him.
     "Thanks," Athena said, "I should have done that myself, but I
don't think I would have known what to say."
     Boomer said nothing as he slowly got back to his feet.
     She let out a sigh and leaned her head against the wall, "I'm just
not cut-out to be his substitute mother, Boomer.  I just can't...relate
to him the way a full-time parent should."
     "You shouldn't be expected to," Boomer said gently.
     "I know," Athena said, "But the way things stand, I don't have
much of a choice.  I don't think Apollo's ever going to let himself get
sealed again."
     He raised an eyebrow, "You really think so?"
     "I know so," her tone was gently emphatic, "He literally worships
Serina's memory.  If you want my honest opinion, Boomer, I think he has
some kind of secret death-wish."
     "What makes you think that?"
     "Boomer," she said, "Have you ever noticed that since Serina died,
Apollo has volunteered for every single dangerous mission that any
warrior could go on?"
     Boomer stopped to think for a moment.
     "Okay," he admitted, "But he's usually had me and Starbuck tagging
along with him.  I can assure you, I don't have any kind of deathwish,
and neither does Starbuck."
     "There's a difference," Athena said, "If you had a six yahren old
son, who'd already lost a parent, wouldn't you be just a little more
cautious about picking assignments that asked for a lot more than just
flying your viper and destroying Cylon fighters?"
     Boomer slowly nodded, "I probably would."
     "And another thing," she added, "With you and Starbuck, it's more
a case of following his lead.  You both think of Apollo the way you'd
think of your own brother, and its usually obvious that you're only
following him because you want to be there in case something were to
happen to him."
     "I admit that," Boomer said, "But I still don't think that means
it's any different with Apollo."
     "Tell me something Boomer," Athena said, "Have you ever known
Apollo to make any morbid jokes during one of those missions?"
     "No," he sighed, "Starbuck and I are usually the bad comedians
when it comes to that.  It's the only way to cover-up how..." he
trailed off and frowned as a thought suddenly popped in his head.
     "How scared to death you really feel?" Athena finished the
sentence for him, "But not Apollo.  With him, it's practically a
fatalistic approach to the whole thing."
     "Yeah," Boomer absently rubbed his chin, "Now that I think about
it, you may have something there."
     "I'm sure of it."
     "So why don't you tell him that?"
     "I can't," she sighed, "He'd never listen to me.  He'd probably
indignantly deny it, and say I was just being overprotective."
     "So who can tell him?" Boomer asked, "Me? Starbuck? The
Commander?"
     "No," she shook his head, "I don't think he'll realize it ever,
unless another woman falls in love with him someday and forces him to
confront it."
     Boomer was silent, as he began to idly look about the compartment
again.  At the other end, Boxey had resumed playing with Muffit.
     "For Boxey's sake, I hope Apollo finds that woman someday and
listens to her," Athena went on, "Until then, I don't think that boy is
going to have anything resembling stability."
     Something caught Boomer's attention in the corner of his eye.  He
turned his head and saw that it was the ventilation duct in the side of
the wall.
     He then looked back at Boxey and Muffit and his eyes seemed to
light up.
     "Boomer?" Athena frowned.
     "Athena," he said calmly, "I think there may be a way out of the
Piscean Canyon after all."

                                        Chapter Three

     "Okay, Jorda," Tigh said as he and Apollo came up to the Chief
Fireman, "How's it look?"
     Jorda exhaled slightly and wiped his forehead with the back of his
hand, "Is there a computer running that can give me the blueprints for
the ship?"
     "I think so," the executive officer nodded, "Over here."
     The three of them went over to the relatively undamaged side of
the bridge that had gotten all of its consoles back to a semblance of
order.  Apollo sat down at the terminal and punched several buttons so
that a detailed overview of the Galactica now appeared on the monitor.
     "Here's the situation," Jorda said as he moved his finger over the
image, "From the port landing bay, and the compartment beyond, the fire
separates, advancing here through Beta section, towards Energizer Two,
and here through Gamma section."
     "Toward the solium storage tanks," Tigh was grim-faced, "All
top-loaded in the last two days since our little triumph at Gomorrah."
     "There's no getting around it," Jorda was blunt, "If it reaches
them, we go up like a supernova."
     "And pretty much the same thing if it gets to the Energizer
first," the executive officer said.
     "The only difference would be the size of the explosion," the
Chief Fireman nodded, "If it was just one or the other, I might still
have enough men to barely contain the fire, even with the Boraton Mist
Control Center gone.  But because the fire's headed in both directions,
I've had to divide up the teams equally, and they're just not enough. 
All they've been able to do is slow up the progress in both sections,
but they can't hold them back indefinitely."
     "Transferring them all to one section at a time wouldn't do any
good?" Tigh asked.
     "No sir," Jorda said, "Do that, and the section that isn't being
treated accelerates and we go up even sooner."
     Apollo's eyes suddenly lit up as he continued looking at the
blueprints.
     "Colonel, take a look at this," his voice took on a slightly
exhilarated tone, "This duct system interconnects the Rejuvenation
Center with some other areas of the ship, including right here on the
bridge!" he rose from his seat and went back to where the bridge duct
was locating.
     "I'm sorry, Captain," Jorda said as he and Tigh came up to him,
"These ducts are too small for a person to get through."
     The executive officer hunched over Apollo, eyeing the duct
himself, "An adult, yes.  But what about a small boy?"
     "No," Apollo shook his head as he continued to look inside the
shaft, "Boomer would never take a chance like that with Boxey's life."
     He then looked back as another idea popped into his head, "He
could send Muffy."
     Tigh slowly shook his head, "It wouldn't do any good."
     "Why not?" Apollo demanded.
     "I'll show you," Tigh motioned him back to the computer, while an
increasingly impatient Jorda followed them both.
     The executive officer sat down and flicked several switches that
brought up more detailed blueprints on the screen.
     "That duct system leads in eight or nine different directions,
terminating in more than thirty compartments, only one of which is here
on the bridge," Tigh's voice was final, "The chances of a daggit, even
one built by a genius like Wilker, coming out here are less than
remote."
     "Then send men to the other compartments," Apollo held his ground,
"Have them wait until Muffy shows up."
     Jorda decided to stop being patient, "And where do you suggest
these men come from, Captain?" he asked sharply, "In case you didn't
hear a word I was saying a centon ago, I barely have enough men to
slow-up the progress of both fires."
     "And I need every man on the bridge to try and get this ship back
to some semblance of working order," Tigh added pointedly, "The Life
Station is overloaded, the pilots must stay on alert in case the
baseship that sent out those fighters decides to come our way, and
you're telling me I should send thirty men to go wait for a daggit that
might not even be trying to get to here?"  He shook his head, "I'm
sorry, Apollo.  Even if I thought there was a chance, I still couldn't
do it."
     Apollo knew that Tigh was right, but he was now desperate to
keep-up his argument, "But they could still be alive, you can't just
leave them there!"
     "Apollo," the executive officer put a hand on his shoulder, "If
the fire reaches either Energizer Two or the solium tanks, the
Galactica is doomed.  All our resources must go to preventing that."
     "And as things stand, we can't prevent it," Jorda added, "The
oxygen in each compartment is drawing the fire deeper and deeper into
the ship like a magnet.  With these two arcs they're traveling in, the
only way we could stop it is by drowning the whole thing at once with
boraton."
     "Is there any way that could be done?" Tigh asked.
     "Right now, we can only tap into our boraton from these secondary
pump stations that can't do the job, because they can only be used in
limited areas.  Now if we had enough high pressure, we could
theoretically tap into enough to put it out in all areas but the
landing bay, but we still wouldn't be able to do anything in the
landing bay itself.  That's totally inaccessible to us."
     "If you were able to compensate for the high pressure and put it
out everywhere but the landing bay, would that be enough to at least
save the Galactica?"
     "No sir," Jorda shook his head, "It has to be smothered in all the
areas.  Each one feeds the other.  Leaving the landing bay untouched
would only amount to another stalling tactic."
     Apollo, who'd been listening intently to what the Chief Fireman
was saying, suddenly held up his hand.
     "Hold it, I've got an idea," he said, "We could replace the
turbo-lasers in three or four of our vipers with mega-pressure pumps
from the damaged energizer, fill them with boraton, and connect them to
the firing mechanism."
     "It would be like a strafing run," Tigh nodded with interest.
     "Exactly," the enthusiasm returned to Apollo's voice, "With four
of us making continuous runs, we could flood that bay with boraton."
     "Jorda?" Tigh looked at the Chief Fireman.
     "I never thought of the mega-pressure pumps," he rubbed his chin,
"I could use one of them to boost the pressure in the internal hose
system that feeds to all of the pump stations, and that would take care
of the fire in the other zones, but..." he trailed off.
     "But what?" Apollo demanded.
     "It hinges on using mega-pressure pumps from Energizer One, and
right now, I'm not even sure they're still intact.  The unit is in the
compartment to one side of where our front-line has been set-up, and we
haven't confirmed whether it was just destroyed by the blast, or
whether the fire's already taken that whole compartment out.  If it's
done that, then the mega-pressure pumps will have been destroyed or be
too damaged to make use of."
     "You've got to get to that compartment and have them retrieved,
now," Tigh said pointedly, "Those pumps are the only chance we have at
surviving."
     "We'd only need five men to get in there to carry them out in one
trip," Apollo said, "Can you get that area clear for just five centons,
or even a little less than that?"
     Jorda sucked in his breath, "It would mean diverting one unit
that's handling the fire arc headed for Energizer Two, but yes, I could
temporarily get that one area clear.  But you'd still need a small
explosive charge to get the door open."
     "We'll get one," Apollo said, "Have a couple fire suits sent to
the Officers Quarters, and we'll be down there in ten centons."
     "My men can handle this job, Captain," the Chief Fireman responded
firmly, "With all due respect, this falls under our training, not
yours."
     "But you need someone to set and place the charge, and that's
where you're going to need me, Jorda," Apollo stood firm.
     "Captain, there are quite a few men on this ship from Maintenance
with more training in setting explosive charges than you and the pilots
are," Jorda wasn't giving an inch either.
     "And where do you suggest those men come from?" Apollo deftly
threw back the Chief Fireman's earlier retort, "Especially since we'd
be wasting at least ten more centons trying to track them down."
     "Gentleman," Tigh coldly cut in, "That will be quite enough. 
Jorda, I'm afraid Apollo is right.  As long as he's here and ready,
you'll save a lot more time getting this whole thing in motion."
     The Chief Fireman knew when it was time to quit arguing, "Okay,
okay, come with me, Captain.  We'll stop by Ordnance and get the
charge, and one of my men will lend you his suit."


     Starbuck and Sheba had decided to check the activity on the bridge
when they ran into both Apollo and Jorda, who were leaving.
     "What's going on?" Starbuck asked his friend.
     "Follow us, and I'll fill you both in," Apollo said.
     A few centons later, as they stopped by the Ordnance section to
pick-up the explosive charge that would be needed, Apollo had finished
explaining the situation to them.  Not just the plan at hand, but the
situation in the Rejuvenation Center as well.
     "Apollo," Starbuck placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "You
know how good a man Boomer is.  If anything, you know he'll be doing
all he can to keep Athena and Boxey safe."
     "I know," Apollo simply nodded and then changed the tenor of his
voice to one that was pure business, "The two of you report to the
launch bay and get your vipers and Bojay's ready.  As soon as we get
the pumps retrieved, I'll join you and we can get started on the
strafing runs."
     Sheba looked at him in bewilderment, "Are you up to getting the
pumps and doing the strafing runs?"
     "As up as I've ever been," Apollo looked her in the eye, as he
opened the door to the Ordnance section and then turned back to the
Chief Fireman, "Jorda, you go ahead and have that fire suit ready."
     He nodded, "I'll have a full team waiting in the compartment
outside our front-line to help you.  Fireman Stone will give you
further instructions."
     Jorda disappeared down the corridor, while Apollo entered the
Ordnance room, leaving the other two warriors alone.
      As Sheba and Starbuck resumed walking in the direction of the
launch bay, the Pegasus veteran was still shaking her head in
amazement.
     "Is there anything he doesn't consider too big for him?"
     "Apollo?" Starbuck shrugged, "With all the missions he's dragged
me into, I don't think so."
     "He's either more courageous or foolish than I realized," Sheba
said as they reached the turbo-lift, "Someday, he's going to get
himself killed."
     Starbuck didn't respond.  There was a certain edge in Sheba's
voice that momentarily made him wonder about something.  He wondered if
the attention Apollo had been giving Sheba before the battle had
finally been noticed, and was starting to be reciprocated, ever so
slightly.
     But after the verbal dressing-down Apollo had given him, and
knowing how feisty Sheba's temper could be, he decided that it would be
a long time before he ever bothered to bring up that subject again.  


     As Apollo reached the compartment adjacent to where the fire-zone
began, four other firemen were already waiting for him.
     "Which of you is Fireman Stone?" Apollo asked.
     "That's me," Stone stepped forward, "And Firemen Jansen, Sanchez,
and Ezra.  I know we'd all like to say how much of an honor it is to be
working with a warrior like you, Captain, but the sooner we dispense
with pleasantries, the better."
     Apollo nodded, "Got my fire suit?"
     "Here it is," Stone tossed the silver garment and hood at him, "It
should provide enough protection if the room's already gone."
     Quickly, Apollo removed his flight jacket and slipped into the
thick coverall, "We'll use the lowest level charge with a thirty micron
delay on the door," he said as he tightened the straps, "As soon as
it's clear, we go in and try to recover all five pumps."
     "We've got tools in case we need to cut them away from the main
Energizer unit," Stone said, "Hopefully we won't need them.  It'll be a
lot better if we're still able to unhook them from their couplings."
     "What might happen if you have to cut them loose?" Apollo took the
hood and prepared to put it on.
     "A lot," Stone was blunt, "We could damage the seals, we could
accidentally pierce the skin on them, we could end up touching a live
wire that might be tangled up in them.  I don't have to tell you how
dangerous this is going to be Captain, especially since we'll be racing
against time.  The sooner we can get the auxiliary hoses we've brought
in for this back to their normal station in Gamma Section, the better."
     "Once we get the pumps, are they that difficult to carry?" the
young voice of Fireman Jansen asked.
     "No, they're a bit bulky, but one man can carry them, Jansen,"
Stone answered, "If there is a danger, it could come from the extra
boraton."
     Apollo frowned, "What do you mean?"
     "We're going to be saturating that zone with boraton so much, that
the floor is going to have some miserably wet and bad traction.  Our
boots are not designed for running in zones like that, so you'll have
to take your steps very carefully.  And keep in mind, that when we exit
the compartment and make our way back, there'll still be two boraton
hoses spraying in our faces the whole time.  Like I said, it's a race
against time, but we can't do any actual racing on our feet."
     "I understand,"  Apollo slipped his hood on and adjusted the
strap, "Okay, let's go."
     Stone cautiously opened the compartment door.  As soon it was open
a crack, Apollo instantly felt the rush of heat from the other side
even under his insulated garment.
     Once the door was open, Apollo had his first look at the fire.
Even in this section where it had not fully spread, it was worse than
anything he'd ever seen in more than ten yahrens of service aboard the
Galactica.
     Two additional teams of four firefighters had moved in on the
scene with extra hoses, waiting for Jorda to give the signal to start
concentrating their aim on the area by the compartment door that led to
the damaged Energizer.  At the moment, the fire had lapped ahead at a
relatively moderate pace.  It was only a short distance further back
from the compartment door though, that the intensity of the fire
switched from a moderate level, to that of a massive wall of flame.
     As soon as Jorda saw the five men enter from the next compartment,
he gestured his arm and gave the signal to start the additional hoses.
     Eight additional jets of boraton mist joined the four that had
already been going.  The level was so massive, that for a brief
instant, Apollo couldn't even see the door just twenty feet away.
     Jorda kept his arm in the air as an indicator for the hoses to
keep going.  It stayed that way for well over a minute.
     Finally, the Chief Fireman lowered his arm and shouted, "Okay,
auxiliary units only, cease!"
     The additional boraton jets stopped, and Apollo could see clearly
again.  For the first time, the fire around the area of the door was
out.
     "All right, Captain, move!" Jorda shouted.
     Apollo took a breath and made his way through the two streaks of
boraton still operating.
     He briefly forgot Stone's warning and almost lost his traction on
the wet floor, which nearly caused the charge to slip out of his hand. 
Quickly, he managed to regroup himself and took more careful steps
before he finally reached the door.
     As Apollo placed it, he cast a glance down toward the next
compartment, where the fire was raging more fiercely, and was already
slowly creeping its way back toward him, now that the auxiliary units
had been shut off.
     He flicked the switch and started dashing back to where he'd come
from.  Once again, the traction caused him to stumble, but this time,
Apollo prepared himself by going into a tumble motion.  Across the wet
surface, he managed to literally roll his way back to the feet of the
two fireman at the main hoses.
     "Everybody, pull back down the corridor!" he shouted as he
hurriedly got to his feet. 
     On cue, the firemen all fell back an additional thirty feet from
the door so they'd be safe from the explosion.
     Apollo looked back and felt the tension rising as the fire seemed
to draw closer to the door.  If it reached it before the charge went
off, the combination could be lethal.
     He cast an impatient glance at his chronometer.  Never before had
thirty microns seemed to last so long.
     Finally, the puff of smoke erupted as the charge blew, and the
compartment door came off its track.  At the same time, the fire at the
other end drew to within ten feet of the now-open door.
     "Move back in," Jorda motioned to the lead firemen who reassumed
their original position.
     "Recovery team, let's move!" Apollo barked to Stone, Jansen and
the other two firemen.
     The five of them made their way carefully through the two jets of
boraton, and entered the blasted opening.
     The instant they were in, Jorda motioned the auxiliary teams back
in to keep the area contained.


     "What are you thinking, Boomer?" Athena asked as he continued
staring at the vent.
     "That duct system leads to the bridge," he said, "And at least
thirty other compartments well outside the fire areas."
     "They're too small for us."
     "Yeah," Boomer nodded, "But not for a daggit."
     He went over to the other end of the room where Boxey was applying
another bandage to one of the wounded.  The robot daggit was right
beside him.
     "Boxey," Boomer said gently, "You've been doing a great job
helping these people.  But I think right now, it's time we let Muffy
try and do something that will help all of us."
     "He can do anything," the little boy looked up and smiled with
pride, "What do you want him to do?"
     "You see that?" Boomer pointed to the duct, "If we let Muffy go
crawling through to there, he'll reach one of the other areas where
there'll be people who can send more lifemasks for us, and help get us
out of here a lot sooner."
     "Will it be dangerous?"
     "No," Boomer said casually, "For other daggits, maybe, but not
him."
     Boxey nodded, "If it means I can see my Dad and my grandfather
again, then let him do it."
     "Okay," Boomer said with a great deal of relief that he'd been
able to convince him so easily, "Muffy come here."
     "Go on, Muffy," Boxey gave his pet a gentle nudge, "Do what Boomer
says."
     The robot let out a yelp and made its way over.  Boomer carefully
took it and gingerly placed it in the vent opening.
     With one hand still on the daggit, he placed a hastily scribbled
note inside one of its metallic collars.
     "Okay Muffy," he gave it another push, "Go bring some help back to
us.  Make your owner proud of you."
     With another mechanical bark, Muffit moved slowly down the duct
passageway.  Boomer and Athena kept their eyes fixed on it until the
daggit turned a corner and disappeared from view.
     "All right," Boomer sighed and settled back against the wall, "Now
comes the tough part.  Waiting to see if he gets to someone."
     Athena nodded and then frowned as she took a cautious sniff of the
air.
     "Boomer," she said, "It might be a good idea to start using the
masks we already have."
     Boomer took a breath.  There was a thinner quality to the air, and
the foul-smell that had filled the Rejuvenation Center was now evident
inside the Storage Compartment.
     "I think you're right," he got to his feet and reached for the
five lifemasks from the storage bin.


     Apollo was the first one inside the Energizer Room.  To his
relief, he saw that it had only been hit by the shock wave of the
explosion and that the fire had so far avoided the room.
     When Stone entered, he took a look at the remains of the Energizer
unit and let out a low whistle.  The tall, sleek piece of equipment had
literally been blasted into pieces.  Scorch marks blackened what had
been the top of the machinery.  There was virtually nothing about it
that was recognizable.
     "My, my, my," the fireman said in disbelief, "What a fracking
mess."
     Apollo looked about, trying to find the mega-pressure pumps that
ordinarily connected to the main unit and fed into various locations in
the wall, from which power was supplied to the ship.
     "No good, Captain," Stone said matter-of-factly, "We'll have to
pull some of this junk away.  All right men, let's get to it!" he
barked at Jansen, Ezra and Sanchez.
     Together, the five men started pulling away the fallen debris
surrounding the main unit.  Apollo was gritting his teeth and grunting
the loudest of them as he struggled with the debris.  He finally had to
stop and rest, even as the other four continued to pull.
     "Not your usual line of work, is it, Captain?" Stone said above
the effort he was still putting into it.
     Apollo looked up at him from his sitting position on the floor
where he was catching his breath, "Not by a longshot, Stone."     
     "Sir," Sanchez blurted, "I think I see them!"
     "Keep at it," Stone said as they continued pulling more debris
away, "Keep at it.  There!"
     Apollo got to his feet, "All five of them?"
     "All five," Fireman Ezra said, "And from the looks of it, they're
all still attached to their main couplings."
     "Terrific," Stone said, "Just unscrew them and they'll be ready to
go.  We just saved ourselves some more time."
     Apollo came back to them and went to work with the rest of them on
detaching the bulky pumps from the devastated remains of the Energizer
unit.  Some of them had blackish marks on them. but it was clear that
none of them had been punctured.
     As he finished unscrewing his pump, Stone looked about and was
still taken aback by the level of the damage throughout the room, "Tell
me something, Captain.  How come one of our vipers never gets to do
this kind of thing to a basestar?"
     Apollo looked up and smiled wryly at Stone as he finished
unscrewing another, "Did you sleep through Gomorrah or something,
Stone?"
     "I was thinking of damage, not destruction, Captain," Stone
returned it as he picked up one of the pumps, "Just once, I'd like to
envision a squadron of Cylons trying to do this kind of work."
     "That'd be a nice sight," Jansen chimed in as he took another one,
"They'd all melt before they could put the fire out."
     Just then, they heard a loud crash come from above their heads. 
The five of them looked up to the upper walkway of the Energizer room
and saw that the compartment door on the walkway had blown open. 
Immediately, the fire lapped on to the walkway from the room beyond.
     "That's from the compartment next to the landing bay," Stone
gritted his teeth, "Looks as though we made it in here just in time. 
Another five centons, and these pumps would have been gone altogether."
     Ezra and Sanchez then finished with the other pumps, and with
that, Apollo and the four firemen made their way back toward the open
door.
     Stone stuck his head out first and gestured his arm as a signal to
Jorda to have the auxiliary pumps quit.  Immediately, the level of the
boraton spray slackened to the level of just the two main hoses.
     The five men slowly made their way out into the corridor.  Apollo
briefly craned his neck backward.  The large wall of flame at the other
end was moving forward again, now that the intensity of the boraton had
been lessened.
     Suddenly, despite his slow steps, Jansen slipped on the wet floor
and lost his footing.  He crashed to the surface and the pump he was
carrying, clattered off to one side.
     "Kill the rest of that boraton!" Apollo shouted, "Kill it now!"
     "She's about ready to flare again!" Jorda shouted back, "We can't
afford to kill it or else it'll take all of you out!"
     Apollo looked back at the young fireman on the floor who was
clutching his leg in pain.  With frustration, he trudged his way
forward through the boraton spray and finally, after almost two
centons, made it back to where Jorda and the others were stationed. 
Stone, Sanchez and Ezra followed.
     "I'm going back for him," Apollo said as he looked back at the
writhing form of Jansen.
     "No, let me do it," Stone pushed him aside, "This is part of our
job, Captain, not yours.  You get those pumps into the next compartment
and get them to the launch bay."
     Before Apollo could protest, Stone was struggling with the bad
traction to make his way back to the injured Jansen.
     Reluctantly, Apollo turned away from the scene and with several
others, started clearing the four recovered pumps into the next
compartment.
     Once they were safely in, Apollo came back out and saw that Stone
had reached Jansen and was slowly carrying him back.  The pump he'd
dropped still lay on the floor.
     Jorda had been concentrating on the scene at the far end of the
compartment, and without any warning shouted, "Get down, it's going to
flare!"
     And then, he, Apollo and the two firemen with the hoses ducked as
a wall of flame from the far end of the compartment belched forward and
shot over their heads for a brief instant.
     When it was finally safe to get up, the Chief Fireman's eyes
widened in sick horror.
     "Oh frack," he whispered, "Frack, felgercarb and shit."
     Apollo looked and suddenly felt sick.  Because of Jansen's injured
leg, Stone had been unable to get down.  The wall of flame had crashed
directly into both men with full force, and not even their insulated
suits could do a thing to protect them.
     "I'm sorry," Apollo said to him with stunned regret, as he tried
to connect that horrible sight with the two men he had met only centons
ago and had already come to admire and respect, "I'm sorry."
     "Never mind," Jorda's voice suddenly became totally unemotional,
"Never mind, it's part of this whole rotten job.  They're not the first
ones to go today."
     The Chief Fireman turned around to face him, "You'll have to leave
one of those pumps with me and make due with just three for the
vipers."
     "Okay," Apollo nodded and struggled to get that horrible sight out
of his mind, "Keep in contact with the bridge.  They'll notify you when
we make the strafing runs."
     "Captain," Jorda took his hand and shook it, "Good luck."
     Once Apollo was back in the next compartment and out of the
fire-zone, the look on his face was all that Ezra and Sanchez needed to
know.
     Sanchez was stoic, and chose not to say anything about it,
"Captain, I've notified Maintenance.  Two men are on their way to help
carry these down to the launch bay.  We'd do it ourselves, but it's
important for us to get back to our job."
     Apollo nodded as he started to take off his fire suit.  As Ezra
and Sanchez went by him to go back to the fire, he patted them both on
the back and shook their hands.
     "It's been an honor working with you," he said, "You're a fine
group of men."
     "And you, Captain," Ezra acknowledged with a slight bow, "The
Lords be with you."
     When the compartment door had shut, leaving Apollo alone for the
moment, he had to summon all his strength to keep from breaking down
into tears.  Never before, had he seen anyone die as horribly as he'd
seen Stone and Jansen.  Seeing a viper destroyed in combat, or a
warrior being shot by a Cylon laser pistol had never conveyed the
terror of death as vividly as the scene he had just witnessed.
     And what made him all the more frightened inside, was that such a
horrible scene could easily be repeated in the Rejuvenation Center if
things didn't change soon.


     As Starbuck slowly backed his viper into a position for refitting,
Sheba and Bojay stood on the tarmac, having already done the same with
their vipers.
     "It's been one tough sectan, hasn't it?" Bojay smiled mirthlessly
at his fellow Pegasus veteran.
     "Yeah," Sheba nodded, "I don't even think the Battle of Molocay
had anything on what we've gone through."
     She then noticed that the helmet under his arm was a Galactica
helmet, "You decided to switch too?" she asked with a wry expression.
     "I figured I might as well," he shrugged, "No matter how much I
may not like it, I might as well face the fact that for better or
worse, I belong to this ship now.  No sense getting dirty looks from
all the other pilots by wearing a helmet from another ship."
     "I understand," Sheba nodded, "I came to the same conclusion too
after the battle."
     "Not that this is a new experience for me," Bojay went on,
"Remember, I did serve on this ship until I got transferred to the
Fifth Fleet.  There's no shame in being a part of this crew,